After the Storm
by SexyLexiCullen
Summary: Fourth Addition to the Storm Series. This is a compilation of future-takes that follow Riders on the Storm. We'll hear from Damion, Kylie, and Sonny. We'll get glimpses into their future, adult lives. And every Storm character will be present, including Edward and Bella. Romance, Humor, Drama, and slight angst will ensue, along with other genres. *Will Update Quickly*
1. Damion Chapter 1

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by** **HollettLA**

**Howdy! Welcome to "After the Storm"! Miss Riders? Well, then this will be a treat. It's a compilation of Future-takes, starring the Storm characters. This starts out following the Maggie outtake, entitled "Destiny" which is attached to Riders on the Storm...This Damion piece was originally 40k words, so I broke it up into six chapters. **

**Enjoy!**

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**Summary: **Nowadays, I'm a lover, not a fighter . . . I'm a dad and a husband, a boring, taxpaying yuppie, and I drive a Prius. I'm the happiest I've ever been, but it's a contrast in comparison to what my life used to be. This is Damion's story, a glimpse into his adult life. Drama, mostly humor, and some romance. (Includes all the lovely characters from the Storm Series)

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**Riders on the Storm **

**"Life's Little Moments"**

**by**

**SexyLexiCullen**

**Damion POV**

**_S_**neaking up onto the maternity floor, I tried to channel my inner ninja skills as I skulked around in the shadows—trying to find my wife. My shift was over, and my objective was to leave on time _and_ with Jordan.

She's currently an attending here at NYU in Obstetrics and Gynecology. I chose to do a surgical residency. A couple of years ago, I decided to choose pediatric surgery as my specialty. It required another year of residency while my wife is actually on staff here.

I'm in my last year—a senior pediatric surgical resident.

After my long day in the operating room, and knowing we had three consecutive days off—together, had me aching to leave this place. No call, no nothing but Jordan and Izzy, my family, for the entire Labor Day weekend, including Monday . . .

I saw Jordan before she spotted me. She was gorgeous, her mouth moving a hundred words a minute as she spoke to her team, which included two residents, an intern, and two medical students. Jordan, _my big shot attending,_ was confident as she gave report, alerted her team to their future tasks.

Once they dispersed, her pager went off, and she pulled it from her pink scrub top to read it.

I watched, since it's my favorite thing to do.

She's just…beautiful and confident, and I couldn't wait for shit to slow down, so I could see her more often.

When she reached for her cell and I saw her mouth "Bella," I left the corner I was hiding in to meet up with her.

She stiffened, always knowing when I'm behind her, and my hands reached out to palm her stomach—pull her back against me.

Able to hear Mom through the phone—actually, I was able to hear all the background noise, too, my nieces and nephews along with Izzy. I knew there was no cause to be concerned. Paging us is the smartest way to get ahold of us while we're here.

Apparently, Mom and Kylie were taking the kids camping, and Izzy wanted to go.

The weirdness of it made me chuckle.

_My mother and sister camping? _

As the conversation wore on, we learned that Pop-Pop and Na-Na—my parents—had gone to Walmart to get all the necessities they'd need to camp out in their backyard.

"Can Izzy stay over?" Mom sounded like she was asking after one of her friends, not her granddaughter.

Jordan giggled. "Of course." Then she turned to raise a brow at me, and I was quick to agree with her—suddenly ecstatic of the prospect of our empty home.

I love my daughter. She's the most beautiful and smartest three-year-old—_although Izzy would argue she's closer to four_—the most gorgeous child in the world, who has her daddy by the balls.

I love spending every moment with her.

But a night alone with Mommy…?

No work the next day?

We can be as loud as we want to be…?

_Fuck me, man. _

My cock was hard in an instant.

Jordan beamed as she ended the call, her eyes meeting mine. "We'll get KFC, watch a movie—"

I grasped her hand. "You ready?" I pulled her. "I'm down—fried chicken, a side of you."

My wife laughed, stopping me. "Not yet…I have a patient at eight centimeters. She should start pushing at any minute."

I shook my head, pointing to my watch. "You're off at seven, not on call. The on-call OB Rez—"

"Damion…" she sang my name. "If it all goes according to plan, I'll be outta here in forty-five minutes." Jordan did a silly dance, shimmying those bad boys—my breasts—into me. "_Gravida_ 2, _para_ 2, should be no complications. This is her third baby. He's gonna slide right out." She did the home run signal, pursing her lips. "Then, you and me…" She waved a finger between us, still dancing. "Bow-chicka-wow-wow!"

Her antics had me smiling wide. Jordan must have had a good day, in a great mood. "According to plan?"

"Don't jinx." She hopped to peck my lips, and then she took a wary glance around.

I didn't give a fuck, pulling her into me to kiss her deep.

After the long day, the long week, I missed my fucking wife. People know we're married—that there are two Dr. Cullens up in this bitch. "Is that peanut butter?" I asked; she tasted good.

Jordan hummed, licking her lips and keeping her eyes closed as she leaned away. "God, I love you, Cullen." Her calling me that turned me on even more—like it always does.

"As I love you…Cullen." I reached under her lab coat to get two handfuls of ass. "I'll wait for you? Or, you want me to head to my parents' to bring Izzy her PJs?" That latter thought entered my mind, and it was a sound plan. "She doesn't have Fozzy, either," I spoke of Izzy's teddy bear.

She grinned up to me. "You know she can't sleep without your singing to her."

My poor baby jumps awake some nights. Our daughter knows when Daddy is home, when I get in late. Izzy loves my voice, which should be of some concern. I can't really carry a tune, but she digs her night-night song.

I sighed. "Mom knows the song, too." Since I was on call last night, we had two vehicles in the parking lot, were going to drive home separately anyway.

Jordan had wide eyes, making a face our daughter does. "It's _s'not_ the same, Daddy." She mimicked Izzy, and she told the truth. Even if Jordan sings, she'll still want me to sing again if I'm not there for bedtime. "Get the chicken, too." She swayed us. "I'll call when I'm on my way, and you can start the Jacuzzi."

I groaned, thinking about Jordan, fried chicken, and our hot tub. "That's—that sounds amazing."

We'd been content to live in that apartment on Fourth Avenue, saving our money, not sure what the future would hold, in regard to our careers, knowing we'd contemplate moving if either one of us received any prestigious offers.

But as luck would have it—about six months ago—the family next door to Sonny decided to move.

My father and brother were all over me, trying to sway Jordan, too. Mom was the worst, as the idea of having all three of her children within a few blocks' radius was a dream come true.

Especially since, if we bought the house, we'd definitely be staying in New York—in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn.

Jordan, who's actually grown to fit in very well with my family, was more into the idea than me. Of course she was, since she'd already accepted NYU's offer.

It wasn't that _I_ wanted to move; I just didn't want my wife and me to miss any opportunities.

But I had to admit, sharing a back fence with Sonny, living next door, was a pretty cool concept.

I relented, of course.

Our home isn't a mansion like my brother's, or my parents', but it's…home. With four bedrooms, and two-and-a-half baths—including a Jacuzzi—I fucking love our house.

I also have my own home office that I don't get to spend that much time in.

But…it's there waiting for me, the privacy, even if I'd rather study up procedures and do paperwork in the living room while Izzy and Jordan do whatever they do.

She bit her lip, sighing, her eyes slowly focusing on my chest to trail up to my eyes—fucking me with those peepers already.

_This woman drives me insane. _

"Before you go…" She stuck out her tongue, rolling her eyes. "This nurse in the ER was hounding me for my signature. Medical Records brought it up earlier, and I forgot. That emergency—crash C-section from yesterday? I forgot to sign off…Anyway, just give it to Nurse Fowler." She went to hand me a chart.

I chuckled. "Have one of your minions do it." That reminded me. My minion scrub cap—from Izzy's favorite movie, _Despicable Me_—was nowhere to be found. I lost it somewhere. Even if that movie's old, my daughter loves it. She's a Disney freak like her old man used to be, too. Also, all those cartoon movies are timeless classics. "Have you seen that scrub cap?"

"Just on your way out…leave through the ER." She shrugged.

"My scrub cap?"

"It's in the dryer—at home."

"Yes!" I fist pumped the air.

"Geez, I haven't done the laundry in forever." She palmed her forehead, giggling. "I should get back. My teams gotta put on our catchers mitts."

"Yeah," I agreed, pulling her back into my arms. "Yo, I can work with ten minutes if…homegirl can hold out." My head whipped up and down the empty hall, knowing we could find a closet, or an available on-call room.

Jordan's cheeks flushed a bit. "Any minute…so no." She left my embrace to grasp the forgotten chart, pushing it toward me. "But you get the chicken. You give Izzy a bunch of kisses from me, and then I want you and that fat cock—" she brought her voice down, coming much closer, her tits squashed against my abs "—in that tub. You understand, Cullen?"

"I _capisce_," I whispered. "You, uh—" I cleared my throat, a horny fucking mess "—you don't play fair. _At all_, Mrs. Cullen." My wife had to know what she was doing to me.

"Dr. Cullen…?" Our heads snapped to the intern running out of the patients' room with a roll of paper tape from a fetal monitor. "You better look at this." Fuck. That didn't sound good.

Jordan turned to waggle her brows. "It's show time."

I grinned, watching my wife disappear into the birthing suite.

In street clothes, having already changed, I adjusted my backpack and grabbed the chart—ready to do the grunt work before leaving.

I was still excited as fuck, practically skipping down to the ER.

Knowing who Nurse Fowler was, I looked for her, trying to stay out of the way. It was pretty busy, and I knew there was a wait for operating rooms. Both departments are usually packed on Friday nights.

Nurse Fowler—the middle-aged woman whose face seems to be in a permanent scowl—was sitting at the information desk. "Dr. Cullen sends her apologies." I handed her the chart. The one thing I've learned is that you don't fuck with the nurses.

She took it from me, mumbling a "Thank you."

"Excuse me!" Some guy was frantic, approaching the nurses' station. "We've been waiting for hours—"

Nurse Fowler held up a finger, cutting him off. "We're just waiting for an operating room to be available." She lifted the phone.

This dude scoffed, palming his head and turning to me. "This is unbelievable."

Not knowing any info, I gave him a tight-lipped smile. But, apparently, he took that as a cue to speak, and I wasn't in scrubs—anything to indicate I even worked here. Oh, crap, my ID badge was visible, hanging off my shirt. I suck.

"G-Getting attention around here is like pulling teeth. This has been going on since yesterday, and we've been here for hours." He turned back to Fowler. "My child's in agonizing pain. I know it's late—"

"Hey," I said to interrupt, curious.

Nurse Fowler placed the phone down. "Sir, I apologize—"

"You say he needs a cast, and I don't understand why he needs surgery—needs an operating room. Can someone please explain that?" He had tears in his eyes. "Yesterday, we took him to Urgent Care where he was misdiagnosed. He spent the _whole night_ crying, and our pediatrician sent us here early this afternoon—"

"Who's your doctor?" I asked.

He waved a hand. "Some…idiot kid…No offense." He eyed my badge. "You're a kid, too. Are there any real doctors here?"

"Sir, we've had more emergent cases," Fowler said. "An OR should be cleared in about an hour. I'll page Dr. Watson, have him—"

I scratched my brow, knowing Garrett wasn't the most promising of my second-year residents. "Gimme the chart," I said.

Fowler and her bitch brow handed it over silently.

I turned to lean back against the podium as I started reading. The patient was Max McManus, a five-year-old boy with a fractured femur. He's been treated with pain meds since he was admitted at four p.m., which was obviously hours ago.

The little dude was in agony . . .

"I'm Dr. Cullen." I put my hand out to shake Mr. McManus's. "I'll be taking over—overseeing Max's case. I'll be your son's new physician." My eyes landed on Fowler. "Is Ortho Room One clear?"

She nodded.

"Page an anesthesiologist. We'll do this here."

"Dr. Cullen—" she started.

I put my hand up to stop her. "I want an anesthesiologist here in five minutes. You have issues? Take it up with the chief." Sometimes being assertive is the only way to get shit done.

Sighing, I tilted my head, indicating Mr. McManus follow me. "I have to look at the films, but Dr. Watson's notes indicate he doesn't _need_ surgery. But, setting your son's leg will be very painful. We need an anesthesiologist to put him to sleep first, which is why he needed the OR." We approached his son's bay. "But we _can _do this here—right away. I just need your consent."

"Thank you." He hugged me.

I patted his back.

_Parents of children are the worst patients. _

I hadn't spoken to Max yet, but I agreed with Dr. Watson's assessment. He didn't need surgery, just a cast.

Dr. Ramos, an anesthesiologist, came down within a timely manner. He agreed with me—that we could do this here, in the orthopedic room. It's like the trauma room, cut off from the rest of the emergency room, and it's filled with all the cast supplies.

While a nurse got busy doing my setup, I placed a procedure gown on, so I wouldn't ruin my clothes. Then I called Maternity, looking for the other Dr. Cullen.

Apparently, she'd spoken too soon, or maybe I had jinxed her. Unfortunately, her patient needed an emergent C-section, and she was already scrubbed. All of which had me feeling easier—that she'd be much later.

Still, I wasn't worried since we had all night, and I'd be out of here to do everything else within forty-five minutes.

Dr. Watson glowered at me, likely upset I stole his patient.

"You're doing it, and I'll watch—ready to step in if you fuck it up," I said. "I just got the ball rolling."

"I don't…want this case." He showed me his palms. "This patient's yours. You hijacked an anesthesiologist. You're about to do an unauthorized procedure in the pit—"

"Shut up," I snapped. "First of all, you talk too much. You don't wanna do it? Fine. But you'll see him outta anesthesia. You call me with any complications, and…like I told Fowler. You gotta problem? Tell someone." The location wasn't going to be ideal, but the alternative…? The alternative is this poor kid slipping through the cracks, in pain all night, while trauma after trauma rolls through to occupy every OR.

"Fine." He went to walk away from me.

I sidestepped to get in front of him, his chest nearly touching mine. "You do what you feel is best, but I promise you now. You wanna be a fuckin' rat, you won't see the inside of an OR for months." I smiled. "Fuck…You might as well pick another specialty."

We have one of the largest pediatric departments in the city. As a senior resident, I do both solo procedures and assist in specialty cases with attending physicians. I'm clocking more OR time than ever, and the kiss-asses are always trying to get in—to observe, assist, hold a fucking retractor, or fetch me coffee.

His shoulders drooped.

I pointed to the door. "Go get the patient."

"Yes, sir." He caught on, leaving the room.

"You're not wrong," Ramos said, getting his medications ready. A nurse had previously pulled in all the necessary equipment—an anesthesia cart, a respirator, and a portable x-ray. Within ten minutes, I had a makeshift operating room right here with everything we'd need.

Maybe I had plans and was excited to get out of here.

And I could have ignored Mr. McManus in my haste to leave.

But I didn't know if anyone else—although I know Garrett definitely wouldn't—would put forth the effort to move things along, do what I'm about to. Like I said, the location wasn't correct, but I could work with what we had—to ensure Max is taken care of properly.

"You peds surgeons are hardcore. And if my kid had a broken leg, was in so much pain…" He reached to pat my back. "You're excellent. You're not gonna catch any shit for this." He shut up when Garrett wheeled Max into the room.

His parents had tear-stained cheeks, not wanting to leave. "Um…how-how long—"

"Half-hour," I said.

"Thank you so much." Mr. McManus shook my hand with both of his.

I smiled, closing them out before closing the blinds. Then, I sat next to Max. He was crying, hugging his stuffed bear tightly. "You're Max, right?"

"Yeah," he cried.

"I'm Damion…who's this?" I asked, pointing to his friend.

He sniffled, his breaths shaky. "My bear—Lenny."

"Is Lenny scared, too?" I whispered.

Max nodded, his little face crumpling even more.

"You should tell him not to be. You guys are going to—" I reached for the oxygen mask "—make bubbles, like this." I placed it to Lenny's muzzle. "You're gonna take deep breaths and take a little nap. That's it. You'll be asleep, and you won't feel anything—no pain at all. How cool is that?"

"O-okay." His stomach trembled.

"See…? Lenny's okay, right?" I asked.

Max had calmed down, staring at his bear. "Yeah…"

"When you wake up—" I wiped some of his tears away "—you're going to be in a cast. Do you know what that is?"

In his history, it'd said he'd broken his arm months prior. Knowing little boys can play rough, I truly didn't think much of it. Though, I'd be writing orders for tests that Garrett can do after I leave. There are a couple reasons why bones can easily break.

_This_ process was going to be quick, but Max and his family wouldn't be leaving until sunrise.

"Yeah, my arm." He showed it to me. "I-I fell off da monkey bars again, and, and my mommy tolded me not to. I la-like the top," he explained.

"But you're not in trouble, right?" I smiled.

"N-No." He shook his head. "Mommy's just sad I'm hurted."

"Yeah, that's what mommys and daddys do. They get sad when you get hurt, which is why you hafta be careful. You'll listen to Mom next time, right?"

"I promise."

"It'll be a little while before you can climb the monkey bars anyway." I poked his nose "I'm sure your mommy will let you and Lenny have as much ice cream as you want." I grabbed my prescription pad. "In fact, I'm going to write it down here. Your mom will _have to_—'cause _I_ said so." I pointed to myself before scribbling on the paper. "She's gotta follow doctor's orders. What's your favorite kind?"

"Chocolate." He giggled at me, looking quite the skeptic. "Lenny can't have ice cream."

"Why not?" I asked, widening my arms.

"'Cause he's just a bear," he whispered, like it was a secret.

"He looks like a cool dude to me." I placed my hand on my chest.

"You're silly." He smiled.

I agreed, nodding. "Most of my patients say that. They call me Dr. Silly D." I tucked the prescription—for copious amounts of chocolate ice cream—into his chart.

"Can I call you that?"

"Of course." I left the stretcher to adjust his blankets. "What's your favorite color?"

"Blue."

"Did Lenny fall, too?" I turned to nod at the nurse, and she knew the deal. We'd be hooking Max up with a kick-ass blue cast.

Max looked to Lenny. "Yeah, but…"

"We'll give Lenny a cast. How 'bout that?" I raised a brow.

"Okay." Max laughed again.

"You ready to blow some bubbles? Take a nap?" I asked.

He hugged Lenny tighter. "Yeah."

Ramos adjusted his machine while I stood over the bed, holding the mask to Max's face securely. "Big bubbles—deep breaths," I crooned, and within three, his eyes were fluttering to a close.

Setting his femur and placing his cast didn't take long at all—forty minutes. I was also able to use the scrap pieces to hook Lenny up, too.

Jordan was, no doubt, still in surgery, and I was back at the nurses' station with a cup of coffee while I wrote my notes in Max's chart—writing orders and instructions for Garrett, too. It was only going on eight p.m., and all I needed to do was talk to the parents and get the fuck outta here.

They thanked me again, glad their son was all right, as I brought them back to the ortho room. I'd also expressed my concern, even though I know falling from the top of monkey bars to be a hard fall.

They seemed like nice people, and I did not suspect foul play, like they'd hurt their kid. Trust me; I've had to call social workers and CPS more times than I'd like. When I encounter those people, get those suspicions, I get heated as fuck.

Mrs. McManus was worried, too—more so than before—but I told them Garrett would answer any more questions they had after our talk, if they had any, could think of any. Kids can also be very clumsy, and I hoped all tests came back negative.

Ramos and a nurse would see Max through recovery here, since he wasn't in the OR.

Max was groggy, out of it with good vitals, and he didn't have any discomfort.

Garrett met me outside the room, where I handed him the chart. "This kid's my V.I.P., so dote—treat them well. Understand?" I know Mr. and Mrs. McManus—even if their son wasn't fatally injured—had been through hell since yesterday. Izzy's almost four, and her vocabulary is excellent, but she's still very much a toddler. And watching your kid in that much pain for hours…especially when they don't understand a whole lot? I sympathized.

"Yes, Dr. Cullen." He doesn't have to like me to respect me, not that I give a fuck.

"Call me with anything..." I patted his back, making my way out of the ER.

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**Thank you for reading. **

**Chapter Two will be posted real soon! **


	2. Damion Chapter 2

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA. **

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**"Life's Little Moments"**

**Chapter Two**

**_Damion POV_**

**_D_**uring the ride home, I'd called Izzy to see if she wanted anything else from the house. That's when Mom informed me Izzy was already in pajamas. My mother also said she was in a Pull-Up, too, and Izzy'd had no accidents all day...not that she has many accidents. My daughter's been potty-trained for about a year, but shit happens . . . and so does pee-pee.

I should have known better—that each grandkid had some stuff at my parents' place. Especially Izzy since she's there _a lot_.

Izzy didn't even want Fozzy, which was awesome. Even if he's young, like my daughter, Fozzy's seen better days. He's been ripped, sewn back together, puked on multiple times, and each time in the washer, he gets even more worn. He's Izzy's security blanket, and I don't even remember where she'd gotten him from.

She just asked if I could come over to sing her night-night song.

Before going to my parents', I went to pick up the KFC, my empty stomach filling with anticipation and now hunger.

When I turned onto my parents' street, I called Jordan's cell. She was just coming out of surgery and said she'd be home as soon as she could. Jordan wasn't seeing any more patients tonight. She just had to finish up with her current one.

That meant I had about an hour, an hour and a half to play with.

There were a couple of cars parked outside my parents' house. No doubt Dad beefed up his security—having his backyard full of his bruisers.

I pulled up behind Aro's Jeep wearing a smile. Aro isn't one of Sonny's/Dad's knockaround guys, so I wondered what else was up. My father and his friend were dressed casually, not as if they had someplace to be.

Dad, Aro, and two other dudes stood on the sidewalk, and my father spotted me right away. He walked over to beam at me. "'Sup, Docta D?"

I chuckled, leaving the car to hug him. "Nothing much."

Dad peered into my car. "What'cha got in there?"

I turned to see him eyeing the KFC. "Dinner."

"Yo…" His head whipped to and fro, his body language shady as he leaned into me. "Hook me up."

I shook my head, unlocking the passenger side door. "Just…leave us some."

Dad pursed his lips, his eyes traveling everywhere as he grabbed a thigh. He acted as though he was doing something illegal.

"Hiding from the cholesterol police?" Aro asked.

"Fuck you." Dad scoffed with a mouthful, chicken skin hanging from his lips.

"What's up?" Aro slapped his hand to mine.

I shrugged. "Kids are in the back?"

He nodded, taking a pull from his cigarette.

"When you quitting?" I won't lie; I miss smoking like you wouldn't believe. If Jordan wouldn't smell it on me, I'd totally bum one…

No, I quit just before Izzy was born, and that was a pain in the ass. But that doesn't mean I don't sneak one from time to time.

No, I can't tonight.

"Eh…I gotta die of somethin'." Aro smiled.

In lieu of going through the front door, I opted to open the gate to enter the yard.

Then I paused, my grin going from ear to ear.

My parents, or maybe my mother and Kylie, had transformed the backyard into a campground. There were two tents, a gated fire pit with chairs all around, a table of snacks and a few coolers.

_I was surprised Mom didn't rent a port-a-potty. _

She's done that when we've had huge BBQs.

My nephews were chasing each other with those Nerf gun things. My niece, Bethany, and Izzy played with their dolls while Kylie did Izzy's hair.

It was just nice...very cool.

"Daddy!" Izzy shouted, running from my sister.

I advanced forward and crouched low, welcoming my baby into my arms.

Instantly, I felt at ease, letting out a low hum and hugging her tight—a sense of satisfaction, happiness washing over me. "How was your day with Na-Na?" I placed a loud smooch on her neck.

She giggled, and when she backed away, I saw she had chocolate all around her mouth. "We, um, we went to duh store." She stared to the sky. "I pwayed wiff Beff," she spoke of her cousin and then frowned. "Peto pulled my hair and Sonny punched him. Pop-Pop laughed and Na-Na got mad." She shrugged, only to frown again. "He pulled my hair, Daddy. Thas'not nice."

I tried not to chuckle as I petted her head, which looked just fine to me. "You're okay."

"Na-Na said I couldn't put a Band-Aid on it."

"No," I agreed with my mother, but my daughter puts a bandage on every, and all, boo-boos. "What were you eating?" I used my sleeve to try to wipe the chocolate away.

"Um…" She scrunched her nose. "Aunty made dem." Izzy ran back to Kylie, inquiring as to what she'd eaten.

"S'mores." My sister smiled, crossing her legs, or trying to. She's six months pregnant with my future nephew, and she's carrying bigger this pregnancy—different from when she had Peto. Kylie's just into her third trimester, and she looks ready to pop.

"Oh…that sounds awesome," I said.

Izzy pulled on my hand. "I can make one."

"You get the stuff ready," I told her, not wanting her near the fire.

"Okay." She ran to the table that was filled with snacks.

I chose to sit near the fire pit, next to Kylie, and we were quiet while Izzy made a ruckus and a mess. There were suddenly marshmallows everywhere, and she busied herself, picking them up.

And I enjoyed the low hum from the radio. "This is nice." Besides my nephews making a bunch of noise, it was peaceful—not too hot or chilly, the fire making it even nicer, almost tranquil.

Kylie smiled, agreeing and rubbing her bump. "It's the end of summer…I wanted to do something cool, with Peto, Izzy, and Beth starting preschool?" she asked. "You know our kids are gonna be the coolest, and the smartest."

"You know it." I nodded, slapping my hand to hers. "Definitely."

"But this is it…" Her expression changed; she seemed worried. "After preschool, they'll go to pre-K, then Kindergarten and first grade." She scoffed, pulling on my shoulder for leverage. Leaning toward me to lift her ass, she let one rip. It was a loud-ass fart that she waved away from us with her hand.

"You all right?" I laughed, couldn't help it.

"Just gas."

"Obviously," I said.

"I gotted it!" Izzy had a plate with all the fixings for a s'more.

"I'll do it." My sister took it from her.

"Hi, Unka Maymen…" Beth, my niece, was to my side and then she crawled into my lap.

"That's _my_ daddy." Izzy tried to get on my lap, too, and I chuckled at them.

"I have two legs. It's cool." I chilled with them both while they picked up their dolls to play again.

"Look!" Beth shouted. "Izzy's a docta yike'a you." Maggie's klutzy little clone showed me her bandaged knee. She's adorable, too—a chubby little thing who looks just like her mother.

My daughter's lips drew a tight line. "It was twouch and go, Daddy." Everyone says Izzy looks like me. She has dark red hair—sometimes it looks brown, just like mine—but she has green eyes like my father. I think she resembles Jordan as well, her features, facial expressions and such. My father thinks she looks like his mother—my grandmother, Elizabeth.

"What are you teaching her?" Kylie laughed. "Touch and go. It was barely a scrape."

I shrugged. "She…obviously hears us talking. I don't know." What I did know was that my kid's the only one who doesn't have a potty mouth.

Izzy will slip after spending the day with other family members, but Jordan and I try our best. Or, mainly, my wife does. I think it's hilarious when Izzy curses—makes foul exclamations that actually fit the situation.

In fact, I always thought loud-mouthed, badass kids were cool. My nephews…forget about it. For whatever reason, Beth is _very_ well behaved, but Sonny's boys are total wiseasses…

They can be a handful—hilarious, fun to be around, but a handful.

Izzy's bubbly and quirky and just too fucking cute for words. She's daddy's little princess, and I spoil her rotten but within reason. So, she _can_ be whiny and demanding—stubborn like her mother, too.

"Wanna pull Peto's pants down?" Izzy giggled, speaking to Beth.

"No!" Kylie was stern.

"Widdlest Ed…?" Beth looked to Kylie.

My sister shrugged.

"Yeah!" Izzy grabbed Beth's hand, and then they both ran from me.

"You should've said no." I raised a brow.

"You could've said no, too." Kylie smiled at me.

Nevertheless, all Izzy and Beth did was chase the boys around—laughing and screaming when one would turn and get them with a Nerf.

"You okay?" I asked. Kylie was quiet when she's usually anything but.

"I love this…I'm perfect." She beamed, handing me a plate with my s'more.

"Thanks." It finally dawned on me that we were missing people. "Where's Mom?"

Kylie sighed. "She needed a nap. Having Peto and Izzy…_all_ day. Those two run ya ragged, man. _I_ appreciated the break—her watching them today, but I…I lasted an hour by myself." She grumbled. "It was too quiet at home. I'm used to the crazy now, but I was able to have a nice dinner with Gio." She wore a smirk. "Great dinner…He got us a few slices and had me for dessert."

"Nice." I gave her another high five.

"Now, I'm so used to Peto and Izzy running around…I don't know. I'd left to help Maggie get ready, and then I brought Beth and the boys back here with me. It was fun. We played red light, green light, one, two, three the whole way over."

I reached to pinch her cheek, but I didn't comment.

Maybe Kylie hasn't put her degree to use yet, but she embraced motherhood like my sister-in-law. She's happy, being a stay-at-home mom, and she's matured so much. Kylie and Maggie are like younger versions of my mother.

And my parents…maybe Dad took a step back, gave Sonny his title, but he really hasn't changed. He's home a lot more. However, my parents never embraced that…getting back to Edward and Bella dream, traveling around the world, like they'd said.

Edward and Bella—Mom and Dad are Na-Na and Pop-Pop now.

They're overbearing and involved in everyone's lives.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Neither would they.

There's no such thing as telling my parents to back off.

We're all in each other's lives, to be honest, and it's cool.

Since we had Izzy, I've felt extremely lucky of that fact—my parents playing bigger roles. Plus, we would have never survived the first year without my mother's help. Kylie helped, too. But when she had Peto, her own infant, Mom stepped in. She helped out a lot more than I could ever thank her for.

"Maggie's not here?" I asked, confusion lacing my tone. Izzy spending the night here or at Sonny's, or at Kylie's—sadly, it's happened quite a few times because my wife and I get stuck at work. But my sister-in-law never leaves her kids for more than a little while, not unless she absolutely has to. Even if tonight is for the kids, Maggie would be here to keep Kylie company.

Kylie nodded. "After this baby, I'm totally doing Weight Watchers. Jordan looks amazing. When she and Maggie did it, I was so jealous, but then finding out about this little guy…" Her finger traced her stomach. "There was no point in my dieting." Her eyes widened.

I had no idea what Weight Watchers had to do with my question.

"'Cause, after this baby, I plan to chill out at Midnight Sun, too." She pointed to herself. "Why should Maggie have all the fun? That's my road dog. We should be out there together."

"All the fun?" I smirked, knowing for a fact that my brother does not parade his wife around his associates.

As a kid, I remember my parents going out for the evening, Dad taking Mom wherever. My brother, however, refuses to bring his wife around those people—unless it's a large family get-together, obviously, and members of both families are present.

I get it, understand, as our mother was always a target in some ways. I don't know.

Overall, though, my sister-in-law has no social life outside of our immediate family. Sonny and his wife don't do "date nights," like Jordan and I, either.

At least one night a month, Jordan and I say we're going out. But, mostly, we just stay in bed, fucking and eating takeout, as though we still lived in the dorms.

Getting a night out is probably a good thing for Maggie, though.

"Maggie put her foot down." Kylie nodded. "Well, I think she did…She went to Eclipse—"

"Eclipse?" I guffawed. "What the fuck would she be doing at—" I jumped up, noticing that Beth had fallen down.

"Safe!" Izzy shouted, widening her arms to do that home run gesture her mother had done earlier. "She's okay!" And then they ran around again.

I sat back down, betting they were all working off their sugar highs.

"She went there one day a while back, and then again last week—tired of Sonny being busy," Kylie said.

My brother has stints where he's busier than usual. He balances work and family fairly well, though, knowing what's more important. Yet, shit comes up that he has no control over. I get it.

"They had some kinky sex in his office before she lured him home." Kylie frowned, staring at the fire. "I wanna go to Midnight Sun and seduce my husband!" she whined, and I chuckled. "It's the little things in life, you know?"

"Yeah." I took a bite of my s'more.

"Gio's _all_ on this." She gestured to herself. "_All_ on me . . . He loves him some Kylie-poon, but…"

"I get it," I said. "It's the thrill."

"Yup." She leaned back on her palms. "He could throw me on his desk and—"

I put a hand up to stop her from continuing, having a mouthful of food.

"Yeah . . . you get it." She straightened out her leg. "Plus, Maggie and I never partied or really went to clubs. She had two kids before twenty-one, and then I was pregnant with Peto . . . We're totally gonna do that—go clubbin' within reason, though—and Jordan's coming with us. We're moms, but moms can party, too."

I didn't comment, wondering if my sister really thought their husbands—or the Skip—would allow that.

I know _my wife_ wasn't gonna be chillin' at fucking Midnight Sun without me.

If I bitch, I might have to sleep on the couch for a night, but fuck that.

Jordan can be bossy, like our daughter, but it's not something I mind—and the wife listens to me just as much when I complain. Our marriage is a democracy, and I'm no dictator, but I draw the line at her shaking her ass at Midnight Sun…without me.

"Maggie went to some party weeks back. I don't know what happened. But she came to me upset, had this idea that Sonny was screwing the new Eclipse manager—some bitch named Veronica that she met that night; she was at this party, flirting with Sonny." Kylie rambled. "And Sonny's been…busy lately…again, so…she bitched."

Kylie burped, holding her chest. "I don't know what happened, or how she got Sonny to relent. He's not _working-working_ tonight—there's another party at Midnight Sun where he had to show his face—and Maggie insisted she go. Mom got on Sonny, too, 'cause she used to go out with Dad all the time—calling Maggie his prisoner. I think I heard Dad and Aro might be going later, too…after the kids go to sleep? Someone's outta prison. I dunno. There's enough goons keeping guard, and Mom's got an AK-47 . . ." She trailed off, finally taking a deep breath. "I doubt Dad's leaving, though. He's in jeans, not a suit."

I furrowed my brow. "She thinks he's fucking around?" I see my brother every day, and I may be Dr. Silly D, but I do have questionable morals…As in, I don't _truly_ give a fuck about what _others_ do.

I mean, I'd totally punch Sonny in the face. Maggie's a good mom, a good wife. She's honest, sweet, almost honest and loyal to a fault. She doesn't deserve that shit. I'd try my best to kick his ass if he was.

He also fucking dotes, worships, and loves Maggie to the point of stupidity—fucking obsessed to an alarming degree with his wife—that crazy, illogical kind of love I have for Jordan.

They can't keep their hands off each other, which is why every time you look around, Maggie's knocked up. I don't believe he's cheating. That's ridiculous.

Regardless, he would have told me—he'd be comfortable enough to confide in me with something like that.

We have coffee a few days out of the week. Sometimes, he gets home so late, I'm waking up for work when he's tiptoeing into his crib.

"Well…" Kylie rubbed her stomach. "That's always a fear in the back of my mind, too…even if I trust Gio. You just never know."

I rolled my eyes. "Gio—"

"I'd kill that motherfucker in his sleep, but I digress." She cut me off, fight in her voice. "Mom says being Maggie isn't all it's cracked up to be—not as glamorous as it might seem. Sure, Sonny loves her. He's a nut for her, but he's gone a lot, which leaves room for his wife's mind to wander. I know Maggie hasn't brought it up to Sonny, but Mom did... Yesterday, she threatened to chop his balls off, and he swore he wasn't…so." She turned to me, and then her bump slowly started to shake. "She chased him around the front with a steak knife. It was classic."

I chuckled. "Pity, I missed that."

"But—" Kylie's expression was stoic again "—Maggie was upset last night, and you know how Sonny gets when she blabs their business. She didn't say…but they went out tonight. All of which means he just relented, or he's making up for being a douche last night. I dunno. He gets mad when Maggie tells Mom or me things. I get it…Gio hates when I complain to them, too."

"They'll be fine." I nodded. "I don't think he's doing anything wrong."

Again, and just like me, he's still very much in love with his wife. Maybe he's busy lately, but those two get down—have sex—whenever and wherever they can. They fuck so much—and I know this because they're my neighbors, and they don't only keep it in their bedroom—I can't imagine Sonny's libido capable of fucking someone else. Sonny talks about their marriage to Dad and me, too. I get jealous when he boasts about that shit—Jordan and I are busier people, and we're not as nasty as they are.

I bet they get pregnant again sometime soon.

They're overdue for another kid.

"Yeah…like Dad was never home." She frowned. "Sonny swore he wasn't going to be like that, though."

"He's home enough." I knew my sister was exaggerating. "He's got a lot on his plate…

"He's so much like Dad now; it's scary. I see Mom and Dad in them, which…But, Sonny was all swearing he'd be home all the time. I remember him saying that crap. And he makes these promises he can't keep—swearing he'll be home more."

I opened my mouth to respond, but my words got caught in my throat.

Maybe I'm not the head of the largest organized crime empire—a big time Mafioso—but I'm busy, too. I try to be around as much as possible, spreading myself thin in a few places...and we only have Izzy.

I try my fucking best, and sometimes, that's still not good enough.

Jordan's in the same boat as me, although her hours aren't as crazy. She usually manages to wake up with Izzy and put her to bed nightly.

"As parents—as people, we try the best we can," I whispered. "And if you see Mom and Dad in them—" I gestured to the house, indicating our parents but speaking of Sonny and Maggie "—then you know they'll be fine. Dad was busy…he's nuts, and Mom always forgave him, although I can't tell you why."

When I got older, I actually found my mother's forgiving heart a weakness—always wondering why she'd put up with his shit. Deep down, I know she didn't have a choice. She'd _never _leave Dad, nor would he _let_ her, and Mom wasn't exactly a victim—rotten to Dad, too, at times.

Those could be coping skills . . . I don't know.

My own marriage might be humdrum, but Jordan's my best friend—my life partner. We bicker and argue, but we have nothing to really fight over. We're lucky, I guess.

I'm lucky things worked out the way they did.

Once I knew Jordan was it, I knew I'd never truly been in love before. My feelings for her didn't compare to any emotion I'd ever felt for a female.

And that, giving in to those feelings—going for her and fighting to be with her—that was the biggest decision I ever had to really make.

Having kids wasn't scary knowing I'd be doing it with Jordan—the same as being married, having a life with her, settling down _without_ settling, making the commitment to be with her 'til death do us part.

I remember pushing to have a baby. Back then, it was all about my insecurity—needing more and not sure, needing us to be tied together in another way.

The end result was unbelievable for different reasons, obviously.

Fuck medical school.

Fuck residency.

Fuck every other thing I do on the daily that might seem heroic to some . . .

Having Izzy was another dream come true—she's my biggest accomplishment, what I'm most proud of, being able to be a father to such a wonderful little person.

And the love, my God, there's nothing else like it in the world.

Everything else…they're just details?

Even when Jordan and I have our worst days, I regret nothing.

I'd _have_ nothing and _be_ nothing without Jordan and Izzy.

"Sometimes, there's nothing to forgive." Kylie grinned. "I try to be mad at Gio all the time. He lets me bitch him out, but then…There's nothing to forgive. Maggie can't hold a grudge for shit, neither."

When the screen door closed, I looked up to see my mother. "Hey!" Her face lit up, and I rose to hug her tight. "How was work?"

"Good." I nodded. "How was Izzy for you?"

Mom smirked, staring out to the kids, who were now digging up her garden. "Hey!" She had that tone, which made them all freeze. "Get outta the dirt!"

They scattered.

I laughed, shaking my head.

"She was good…still one helluva picky eater, though."

"Everything's chicken," I said. "Just tell her it's chicken, or make her some pasta."

Mom waved a hand. "She ate enough junk, and a little macaroni."

I didn't say anything, not a word, even if Izzy doesn't get "junk" at home. She thinks fruit is a fantastic snack. She doesn't know much else. Our daughter is fit, slender, average height and weight for her age. But Jordan was always hell-bent on instilling good eating habits because…

_Eh, my wife with her always thinking herself a whale drives me crazy. _

Jordan's afraid Izzy might have a weight problem when she gets older—genetics and all that. My wife's always been robust, and a size or two bigger since Izzy's born, since she can't seem to lose the last ten or so pounds. _I_ don't mind. Jordan's healthy, voluptuous. Her curves…_madonn'._

She's not morbidly obese. In fact, when she gets close to her goal, I get nervous—and I dangle fried chicken in front of her. Because I love her, I'm fucknut crazy about her the way she is.

That reminded me…about the Jacuzzi. "So, she's cool?" I asked. "When should I pick her up tomorrow?"

Mom shrugged, yawning. "Whenever. We don't have any plans."

I kissed her cheek. "Thanks, Mommy." Thoughts of breakfast in bed and bending my wife over the kitchen counter while she cooked flashed through my mind . . .

"Just…" Mom stopped me from getting too far "—pretend like you're putting her to bed now, so she can hear her song, or I'll never get her down."

"All right." Looking to my watch, Izzy might just fall asleep now anyway. "Izzy!"

My daughter picked her head up and then ran to me.

I held those cheeks. "Let's go do pee-pee."

"Oh…" she whined. "I no wanna'go sleep yet. Na-Na says—"

"_I_ said you guys could stay up later, but Daddy has to go home," my mother explained. "You don't have to sleep now."

"Don't you wanna hear the night-night song?" I asked.

My daughter was nervous and contemplative, munching on her lower lip. I bet she doesn't wanna miss out on anything, risk falling asleep. I remember being the same way as a kid. "You _hafta_ sing it, Daddy." Then she walked around us to get into the house.

"She's so much like you." Mom squeezed my bicep. "When you were my little knucklehead."

I chuckled, trailing after my daughter.

No one seemed to be here, in the lower level of the house, but Izzy left the door open. She propped her little ass onto the toilet, holding onto the sides so she didn't fall in, her pants and diaper hanging from her feet. Fucking adorable.

I closed the door. "When you're not home, you gotta close the door."

"I forgots." She stood up to wipe herself and let out a little fart.

"You gotta poop? Why don't you try?" I guessed whatever they'd eaten tonight had everyone gassy.

"Nah…I'm good." She patted her belly, looking like my father, which made me smile. "Where's Mommy?" She pulled up her pants, dancing into them.

I reached to flush the toilet. "She had an emergency surgery, so…" I helped my daughter wash her hands. They were filthy, nearly brown from the dirt.

"Na-Na has cool soaps." She played with the seashell soaps that are only for display purposes. "Mommy had to take'a da baby out the belly herself?"

"Yes." I beamed at my smart baby girl. She does listen when we talk. "But Mommy told me to give you lots of kisses and hugs." I squashed her, squeezing her tightly. She squeaked before I placed a bunch of kisses on her cheek. "I love ya, kid." After putting the soaps back and rinsing her hands again, I dried them.

"I love you, too," she said. "Mommy says I gotta brush my teefs." She showed them to me. "I gotsa do it before the night-night song." She nodded and waved a finger, no doubt mimicking her mother.

I honestly had no idea if she had a toothbrush here. "I'll let you slide tonight." I hugged her again. "You ready, Freddy?"

"Yeah." She landed a wet one on my nose. "Mommy thinks you're pretty." Izzy petted my hair.

"Ruggedly handsome," I corrected her, not wanting her to go around calling me pretty. "I think Mommy's pretty, too."

She nodded, her face lighting up. "I have the pwettiest Mommy ever."

"That's right."

Then her face fell, her brow in a small furrow. "I miss'a my mommy." She looked sad.

I jutted my lower lip out, afraid she'd start to cry. "Did you wanna come home?"

"No," she said, having gotten over it quickly.

"Oh…all right." I gathered her into my arms to walk out into the back.

"Dad's gonna sleep out here, too, right?" I asked my mother when we passed her. The thought of them sleeping outside, no matter how many were around, keeping guard…it had me worried.

_I mean, I could just take Izzy home, put her to bed, and then we can do what we'd planned anyway_, I thought.

It's late, and she'd been playing with her cousins, running around for however long.

Mom nodded. "Your sister and I are sleeping with the girls, and Pop-Pop is camping with the boys...the red tent." She pointed.

"Cool." I nodded.

"I want my dolly." Izzy reached for the ground, a Cabbage Patch baby. "Na-Na gotted it for me . . . His name's Joe."

"Joe, huh?" With a quick dip, I picked it up and then went for the tent.

"He's my brudda'." She kissed its forehead, thinking herself hilarious. "My brudda'!" Izzy cackled, her voice deep. "Kiss him—my brudda-uh-uh." She shoved Joe in my face.

I planted a loud one on the both of them, making her giggle.

Beth met up with us, holding on to her own Cabbage Patch doll. I tucked them both into their matching Little Mermaid sleeping bags. Then I tried to get comfortable on the ground, since they were sharing a twin air mattress.

"If youse wake up and gotta do pee-pee—"

"We wake up Na-Na," they said in unison.

"Good." I gave them kisses on their foreheads, cuddling close to Izzy. "And you don't leave the yard, no matter what. Understand?"

Izzy nodded. "Pop-Pop went over da rules." She nestled into me with a sigh. "He meant bit-niz."

"Right," I agreed. "You know your phone number?"

"Five, five, five—three, four, oh—eight," she recited the house line.

"And if—"

"Geez, Dame. They're safe!" Kylie chastised, had heard me. "Aro's camping with the boys, too!"

"Okay…you ready?" I asked.

Izzy beamed and nodded, waiting.

I cleared my throat, knowing those outside the tent might hear me, too. "For once in my life, I have someone who needs me…" I sang. "Someone I've needed so long. For once, unafraid, I can go where life leads me, and somehow I know I'll be strong…" I pushed her hair away from her face. "For once I can touch what my heart used to dream of…!" I tickled their sides, which made them giggle. "Long before I knew…" I kissed Izzy's nose because…the song lyrics fit very well.

For once in my life, I wasn't incomplete, having been lacking before I'd started dating Jordan, and then when we had Izzy…I was somehow completely whole. They complete me and make my life worth living.

And I'm reminded of those facts every time I sing this song.

Without them, my ladies, I'd be nothing—just the empty shell of a person I used to be.

"Oooh, someone warm like you…would make my dream come true!" I howled, making Izzy and Beth laugh again.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…" Mom sang backup, which made me _crack_ up.

"For once in my life—" Mom carried on with me again, somewhere outside the tent "—I won't let sorrow hurt me, not like it's hurt me before. For once, I have something I know won't desert me. I'm not alone anymore…" Now Kylie sang softly in the background; we all knew this song well.

"For once I can say, 'this is mine, you can't take it!' As long as I know I have love, I can make it. For once in my life, I have someone who needs me…" I trailed off while others carried on, watching Izzy's eyes droop and flutter to a close.

"Wove you," she mumbled, holding onto my shirt.

"I love you," I whispered, checking on her cousin, who was still awake and playing with her doll.

When my eyes landed back on Izzy, she was awake. "I'm up!" She pushed the sleeping bag away. I was old news when she turned to her cousin. "Let's say we gotta do pee-pee and play with Na-Na's soaps."

"No!" My mother was stern, and I laughed.

Our daughter, even when she's trying to tell a secret, has no concept of volume control. She'll get close to your ear and shield her mouth, but there's no whispering.

"I gotta poop." Beth made to leave the tent.

Izzy and I followed. She went after her cousin, to keep her company, I guess—Kylie going after them—and my mother stopped me again.

She had tearstains on her cheeks.

"What's up?" I asked.

"You know…Mom, the mush-monster." She waved a hand. "You singing that…reminds me of the times I'd sing it to you guys. Ugh." She wiped her eyes. "When you guys were peanuts."

"Oh…" I did feel a twinge of embarrassment for jacking her night-night song. "Izzy likes that one better than 'Sunny,' so…And we're also big Stevie Wonder fans."

She reached to palm my cheeks. "Go…go have a good time. Ravage your lovely wife." She slapped my ass.

"Excuse me…?" I raised a brow.

"Like you're not gonna go do that?" she countered. "Don't use protection…" Mom muttered under her breath.

"What?" I laughed.

"Be fruitful, multiply." She picked up some garbage.

I widened my arms. "You don't have enough grandchildren?"

Mom sucked her teeth, not saying any more as she continued her task of cleaning the yard.

_But her mentioning such things . . . _

I massaged the back of my neck. "I'm gonna take off now. Call if anything. If you want me to pick her up or—"

"She'll be fine." Mom stared at me as though I had three heads.

Then the girls came filing out of the house. "She didn't have to poop," Kylie announced. "Little schemers wanted to see what they could get into." She eased down by the fire again with Mom's help. "They ran from me to find Pop-Pop."

Izzy and Beth had gone over to the garden again to sneak up on the boys. I don't know what they were doing—partially hidden by the shed.

"Ewww!" Izzy yelled, running back toward me. "Holy shit!" Her exclamation surprised me, and she had Beth on her heels.

"What?" I bent low to be attentive.

Izzy was mortified, pointing behind herself while Beth giggled. "They-they was—Peto, Sonny, and Widdlest Ed—I sawed dem."

"Saw…" I nodded. "What were they—"

"What the hell are they doing now?" My mother cut me off.

As soon as Mom got close, the three boys scattered, picking up their discarded Nerf toys. "Sonny!" Mom pointed to the floor, and he stood there, expectant. "What were youse doing?"

"Nothing, I swear." He pointed to himself. Sonny wore a smirk, looking way too much like his father—seven going on seventeen like my brother at that age, too.

Mom giggled 'cause she probably saw the resemblance as well, and she swatted him away.

"What were they doing?" I looked to Mom and then Izzy, who still wore a face.

Mom shrugged, not caring anymore, I guess.

Beth snickered. "They take out their peshees."

My brows rose.

"What?" Kylie shouted. "Oh my God…these kids are hilarious…I mean, since Peto discovered it, it's always in his hand." She was hysterical, cackling. "Izzy saw her first peen."

"She's a baby!" I hollered back. Even if they're her cousins, I felt odd, protective, and a little angry. "Yo…" I turned to my mother, wondering if she was _really_ keeping an eye on these kids.

"They're boys." She shrugged. "You and your brother used to—"

"We _never_ did that," I defended, "and never_ anything_ like that in front of Kylie."

My sister was stuffing her face. "Maybe if you did…I wouldn't have been so hung up on Gio showing me his." She winked.

"Nasty." Mom threw a chip at her before looking to me. "You haven't had 'the boys and girls are different' talk yet?"

"She's three years old!" I gestured to my daughter.

"Almost four." Izzy pulled on my pant leg. "Don't yell, Daddy, pwease."

"Youse were always playing with your peshees, which…_all_ little boys do." Mom chuckled. "It's normal."

Aggravated, I growled, bending to pick Izzy up before I went to leave the yard. "You can camp here another time—"

"Dame!" Kylie and Mom screamed after me in unison.

I stopped.

"I no wants'ta go." Izzy's lip quivered. "You mad." She squeezed my neck, which had a calming effect. "No be mad." Her face lit up as she leaned away, reaching for my niece. "Beff, come wiff us!"

"'K." And then my niece grabbed my hand. "Gots'a tell my mommy."

"My daddy can." Izzy nodded, plotting with Beth.

I was fine with getting them away from my perverted little nephews, to be quite honest. I'd text Sonny on our way to my crib, and I know he'll agree with me.

Beth's his little angel.

And little girls shouldn't see that shit.

Mom approached to take Izzy from my arms.

"Stop—" I started.

My mother didn't listen, and I wasn't going to play tug-of-war with my kid. "You're being ridiculous." She placed her down. "You guys wanna leave Na-Na?" she asked the girls, all while wearing a pout, and she fights just as dirty as my wife.

They exchanged a look and shook their heads no. It made me smile because it reminded me of Ant and me when we were younger.

"Go play." She waved them on.

The girls ran away.

"Mom—"

"She's fine!" Mom exclaimed. "The boys are three, six, and seven—what do you _think_ she saw?" She shook her head. "They're little boys, not men…Relax."

I didn't reply, and I really wanted to leave with my daughter now.

"Lighten up, goober." Kylie snorted.

"Yes!" Mom grabbed my sides. "Lighten up…Go." She gave me a push. "Izzy's fine. We're all going to sleep soon anyway. Okay?"

I honestly didn't know what to do, knowing this would be one of those times where I'd turn to my wife for direction—guidance. When I reached for my cell, I came up empty, realizing I'd left it in my car. "Call me in the morning—lemme know what's goin' on." I pushed my glasses up.

Mom gave me her cheek to kiss. I waved to my sister, and then I met up with my daughter again—side-eyeing those nasty little boys who were laughing as Peto climbed on to Sonny's back.

"You sure you wanna sleep here?" I asked.

She nodded. "Can you stay?"

"I—I wanna be home for when Mommy gets home." Meanwhile, Jordan might be there already.

"Go get her." She giggled, about to chase Little Sonny and them.

"Izzy—" Gently, I shook her from side to side to gain her attention. "We don't have sleeping bags."

"Oh…" That pacified her. "Okay." She went to run for the kids again.

"Hey!" I pulled her back.

"Daddy..." Izzy was put out by my presence. She couldn't make up her mind. Now she wanted me to leave. "I wanna play." She stomped her foot.

I gave her a look that wiped that expression off her face.

"I sorry." She looked to the ground.

"Call—you ask Na-Na for the phone, if you get upset, sad, or scared, or if you have a bad dream, or don't feel good—"

"Dame…" My mother was exasperated. "They're safe. You don't trust me to—"

"I do." I cut her off, giving Izzy a bunch of kisses.

"Doesn't sound like you do." Mom had her claws out. "Your father, Aro, your sister, and I are here…God forbid anything, you're a block away. What the fuck?" She was pissed at me. "Did I not raise three children…? This really pisses me off—your pissy attitude."

I massaged my forehead, watching Izzy join her cousins.

"She's _always_ here. Or, she's with Kylie, or at your brother's, and, tonight, it's suddenly a problem?" she asked.

"Nice…I work long hours, so—"

"Oooh, Damion Edward, you make me so mad!" Mom waved her fist at me. "No. I didn't say that to make you feel badly."

"What's goin' on?" Dad left the house, and Aro followed with his cell glued to his ear. "You're louder than my bruisers," my father laughed, staring at me.

"Pop-Pop!" Little Sonny ran to latch on to his legs.

Dad mock punched his jaw, making him crack up and throw himself on the ground. But then he…gave me that same look I'd given my daughter a minute ago. "What's up?"

Mom had her arms folded across her chest, and she wouldn't look at either of us.

And I knew…I _knew_ how offended she was.

I put my hands up, surrendering. "Nothing. I'm sorry. I was wrong. Mom's right…I'm sorry." I didn't want to argue, and I owed her an apology.

Dad had no reply, reaching into his pocket. "All right. Enjoy your night." He tried to hand me a twenty.

Confused, I refused to take it.

"You little sneak." Mom pinched my bicep. "Sneaking him food?" She jerked a thumb to Dad.

"I didn't—" I started, but she'd turn to go after my father. She grabbed his face, getting on her toes to sniff his mouth.

"Oh, you want some of this?" Dad thought he was getting lucky.

"What were you eating?" Mom asked.

"Bella, come on…back off." He nudged her away.

"I see the crumbs on your shirt…" She ran after him, and the kids thought it was a game. Within seconds, Dad was hysterical, laughing as they followed him around—Mom running her mouth.

I looked to the starry sky, wondering if there was _any_ chicken left.

Aro laughed, sipping his scotch as he placed his phone in his pocket. "That was your brother. He _just_ called me—asked me if I'd seen you. Call him back." His tone was cryptic.

"What?" I was frustrated, aggravated by his words.

Going to Midnight Sun or Eclipse was the last thing I wanted to do.

"What happened?" I turned to look for Dad.

My father made eye contact with me, having finally stopped, while Mom bitched him out. He was deftly ignoring her, used to her tirade already.

"What's going on?" I asked Aro, wary now. "Is he hurt?"

Aro shrugged. "I honestly don't…know. Someone's obviously hurt, not him, though . . . Peto!" he shouted for his grandson. "Let's put our jammies on."

"I'll get them." Kylie made to get up. "They're in his Spiderman backpack—"

Aro waved her down, looking to me again. "I'd just head there, Dame."

I nodded, not saying a word and letting myself out of the yard.

If Sonny was hurt, everyone would have gotten a call.

Nothing would be this calm.

Trust.

My worries for him ebbed.

Leaning my forearms on the fence, I watched—like I watched Jordan earlier—as my daughter giggled and played with her cousin. They were making their dolls dance while Kylie sat but moved to the fast-paced beat on the radio, too—none the wiser, carefree.

* * *

_**Thank you for reading. **_

_**Chapter Three is coming soon!**_


	3. Damion Chapter 3

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

* * *

**"Life's Little Moments"**

**Chapter Three**

**_Damion POV_**

_**S**_lightly uneasy, I walked back to my car, waving to the henchmen chilling outside. They weren't alarmed either.

I reached for my cell quickly, noticing Dad left like four pieces of chicken out of twelve. And I bet Aro helped him, ate some, too. "Nice…" I grumbled.

I had one voice mail and a text from Jordan, and a bunch of missed calls from Sonny, which I'd only received within the last couple minutes. My wife tried to get ahold of me earlier.

_Emergency came into the pit at 9:00. Idk when I'll be done—J _

Seeing that it was only a quarter to ten, I groaned.

Then I listened to her voice mail. I didn't pay any mind to the patient details she'd rambled on about, but she ended with an "I love you" after reminding me of our long weekend ahead—promising we'd still have a night of fuckery tonight, and that I couldn't be angry with her for not wanting to leave her resident with such a complex case.

Jordan sounded like I usually do, since this was a reversal of roles.

I leave as soon as I'm off-duty. Treating Max was actually a fluke, but I have longer days and log more hours than my wife. I'm technically still a resident. My brilliant wife is an attending, making much more money, and she's able to self-schedule to an extent.

But if she'd left when she was _supposed_ to, the doc on-call would have dealt with it.

And I didn't even want to know what my brother wanted.

He'd called twice more while I was trying to see what was up with Jordan.

"What?" I asked, just ripping that Band-Aid off.

"Yo, fuckin' finally…I've been trying to call you the last five minutes." _Mr. Instant Gratification_. "Lemme call you back." He sounded off.

The call ended and, of course, he called me back from an unknown-to-me number—from a prepaid. "Come to MS." He rushed out.

"Uh…I'm at Mom and Dad's. You okay?"

"No…" he answered, calm now. "I'm not okay—because my wife's a fucking idiot!"

"Jesus!" I hollered. "What the fuck, bro?" I listened to the low whimpers and Sonny talking shit. "Yo!" I tried to get his attention.

"What . . .? That's your own fault." The latter of his words weren't for me. "I'm fuckin' pissed at'chu. Go stand over there." He boomed, and I knew Maggie wouldn't listen.

I started the car to speed away from the curb.

"San-Santino—"

"Go! Look at what you made me do? You wanna keep goin'? Don't fuckin' test me—" His words cut off.

Maggie cried and there was movement on the other end—a struggle.

"Fuck." I scoffed, wondering _what_ the fuck.

Despite what my sister said about them, my brother and his wife truly aren't a _dramatic_-type-couple. They're happy, but I didn't know . . . "I'll be right there. I'm coming now—don't be a fuckin' prick!"

I had no idea if Sonny had heard me, and I ended the call to throw my phone into the center console. Then I regretted hanging up, knowing I should have kept listening.

My brother was pissed as all fuck, and . . .

Nevertheless, no one called while I drove—speeding toward Manhattan.

Wary, I was also jittery, hoping I didn't get pulled over by a cop. I was going eighty-five on the FDR Drive, wondering what the fuck I was going to walk in to.

I'm the lead surgeon on traumas when I work the ER. I've been in on many hairy surgical procedures.

But whenever my brother calls—as I've been called for this or that, if someone got shot—my stomach lurches.

I just never know the circumstances, what's going on, not until I get there. And I refuse to treat anyone who's outside the inner circle. It doesn't matter what their ranks are. Every time I'm called to help someone, I'm obviously implicated, accessorized to some kind of crime. Sonny knows to only call when someone close to home is injured or needs help.

Throughout the years, I don't know what has happened to me. I changed; I'm a different person now. I can't explain how I used to embrace that shit while I was involved, either.

I've come to realize that my brother's life—my father's life in the underground world in which they're involved—is a dark, dark place.

_Very dark._

The deeper you get, the more it fucking changes a person, but I know those in my family aren't evil—a total contrast, different people depending on where they are and who they're around.

Ant's not even the same as he was. Some days, I hardly recognize my cousin, who I'm still close to but not sure if I want to be. He's dating a woman now, too—wanted it—although I can't imagine how active their sex life will be.

My aunt, Alex, is totally against it—for obvious reasons. Sure, maybe it was a shock to learn that Ant was gay, but after accepting it, wanting Ant to be happy, all for him to live this lie? I understand where my aunt is coming from, and my own parents won't even talk about it.

Vincenza's an eighteen-year-old idiot, but a trophy of a chick, whose father is someone high in rank from Boston. I won't lie; she's very attractive, but she doesn't have a cock.

For the time being, Ant has Vinny in an apartment here in Brooklyn, and they're getting married next spring. He's not that strict, not like the other males in my family. Ant takes her out with him; they go everywhere together. He parades her…_like_ a trophy, but they are close.

Sonny set it up—it was to benefit both organizations, there was a payout, and let's face it, my cousin wants his own family. Ant wanted it. He also digs the cover, which _will cover_ his ass as far as being involved—being a capo.

Ant's actually happy with the arrangement, and I doubt Vincenza even knows he's gay. She thinks he's religious—wants to wait until marriage, and she bought it. Apparently, the girl's a virgin.

If he was in the closet before, now he's hidden in there, and the door's locked.

Even if what he's doing breaks my heart in a way, he's content—has changed, like I said, embraces the idea of his future marriage.

Anyway, when I get called to one of the clubs, all I've ever done is patch whomever up, if I can and they aren't already dead. But it's been a while since anything like that has happened. It's been mad quiet lately.

Late one night after shift, my father called me to Eclipse. I rushed there, thinking the worst, 'cause he acted as though it was an emergency. But then I got there, and he was having drinks with my uncle. No one was hurt, and I ended up having a drink with them, too—while Dad wanted me to break down the "colonoscopy" garbage my mother was harping on him about.

Basically, whenever there's something going on medical, everyone in my family calls me. It doesn't matter—big or small, I'm made aware.

The best was when Little Eddie, my cousin, thought he had herpes. I was called to Carlisle's house at two a.m., thinking someone had died . . . That dumb motherfucker had shaved his balls, man-scaping, and then worked up a sweat—scratched, caught nasty heat rash. Fucking ridiculous.

Speaking of ballbusters, my father doesn't even have high cholesterol. Mom's just paranoid, but she broke that down for me. _"Your father hasn't gotten this far in his life to be taken out by a heart attack—leave me because of that bullshit. No, thank you!"_ She'd been ranting and raving to me . . . cracking _my_ stones about it.

My nephew, Little Sonny, would get ear infection after ear infection—sore throat after sore throat. Then I finally got my brother and Maggie in touch with the E.N.T-god I've worked with. He had tubes put in his ears and a tonsillectomy last year, and he hasn't gotten sick since.

All of those occasions were considered "emergent," but they really weren't.

Regardless of the dangerous life my father has led—despite what'd happened to my brother a million years ago, my family doesn't _know_ emergency, and I pray to God they never do.

I've witnessed people lose their loved ones, parents lose a child, have their lives leveled by an accident, illness—whatever—_true_ emergencies.

_Coming here tonight had me all the more worried, though. _

My tires screeched as I came to a stop in the alley behind Midnight Sun. The back door was open, as Sonny had a few guys standing out there. They recognized me and granted me entrance. Unfortunately, I had to cross the floor to get to the office. There was nothing amiss at the club, bodies everywhere—dancing and drinking.

The office is away from the general public, down a semi-private corridor. "It's me!" I banged my fist sideways.

Sonny popped his head out before pulling me inside and locking the door.

There were many things wrong with this scene—what was tucked away and hidden—but my eyes went to the dead guy on the floor first. Blood pooled around his body, and I saw brain matter, skull fragments.

"Uh…he's dead." I pointed, looking to Sonny. "You need a magician, not a doctor."

He gritted his teeth, placing his palms to his eyes. "Not him," he whispered.

Glancing around some more, I saw Maggie hiding behind a file cabinet. Her body shook, and now I heard those same low whimpers from the phone. She seemed to be hyperventilating.

"What's going on?" I asked.

Sonny kicked the corpse, letting out a groan. "She thinks she's having a heart attack—dying. Just fix her so she can leave."

I shook my head.

"—a stroke, something, and she's probably in shock, too." He was calm again as he faced me. "I…" Sonny waved a hand, staring at his twenty-four year old wife with disdain. She was obviously just in shock. "I'm glad you're here. I-I can't." He went to get around me to leave.

"Santino!" Maggie shrieked, jumping to get to him. "Do-Don't leave. I-I'm sorry."

He pushed her, and she slammed into me with force. "What the fuck?" I shouted, catching her before she could fall.

"I need a drink." Sonny left without saying any more.

Maggie started breathing heavier, her eyes landing on the dead guy.

"Look at me." I turned her to face me, feeling for her carotid, which was elevated. It didn't seem dangerously so, nor did I believe Maggie was stroking out, having a heart attack. Again, I didn't know why I was here, besides to maybe save my brother's marriage—save Maggie in another sense. "What happened?" I noticed her pupils were dilated as well.

She shook her head rapidly, turning to be violently ill into the trash.

I sighed, pulling her hair back, and that's when I caught a look at her neck. She had the start of my brother's handprints there. "Sonny…" I whispered, anger filling me. "Deep breaths." I patted her back as she dry heaved.

Maggie covered her mouth, still panting, and she almost collapsed.

I caught her before she did, bringing her over to the chair. "Talk to me. What the fuck happened here?" My own heart started hammering away.

My sister-in-law carried on, shaking. She might just pass out from hyperventilation.

"Mags!" I grabbed her biceps, getting in her line of sight. "Calm down…okay?"

A cry got caught in her throat, and then she broke down into sobs. But that was better than her fainting. We were a step closer to her relaxing.

"Look, you're okay…Whatever you saw, it's best you forget it. You know?" I didn't know how to talk her down—what her problem was—nor did I know why Sonny was as upset. "Does it hurt anywhere?" I inspected her neck more. "What'd Sonny do _to you_? Tell me that." The thought of him possibly harming her was foreign, unfathomable. But that temper he has . . . I didn't know what he was capable of. "Are you hurt?"

"N-No." She shook her head, pushing my hands away. "N-No. I can't—can't breathe."

"You can…You can breathe. You just spoke to me, and you're breathing now." I knew she was panicking, possibly just in shock, and having a panic attack to boot. "Sonny scared you." I had no idea how within the blink of an eye, Sonny could actually turn into a monster. I've done things, horrible things, but… "You know he'd _never_ hurt you."

"He-he was-was gonna kill me."

I shook my head. "No," I disagreed. "Whatever he did…he was upset, just wanted to scare you."

"It was my fault," she stammered again, looking away to palm her forehead. "I deserved it. He can't hate me, leave me—I'll die."

And just like I used to wonder with my parents, I didn't know why Maggie wanted him to stay. Maybe I've been very lucky—in that I have never lost it, given Jordan a reason to despise me, gotten violent.

Unlike the females in my family, I think Jordan _would_ leave me—take off with Izzy—if she thought for a second that they were in danger. Or, she'd kill me herself.

I shook my head of the thought.

This wasn't about me. "Look at me." I turned her chin back. "We're gonna take deep breaths and hold them for a few seconds at a time. Do what I do." I grasped her wrist to get her pulse as we continued a breathing exercise for about a minute.

It seemed to work, calmed her breathing a bit, and she relaxed a little. "Mags, what happened? Can you tell me?"

Her large eyes met mine, her pupils still huge. "I—I'm stupid," she cried.

"No…you're not stupid. What'd you take?" I had a feeling there was more than alcohol in her system.

"I-I, um—I have to get home." She tried to leave the chair. "I need Santino—my babies!" Maggie wailed.

"Hey…the kids are fine. I _just_ saw them." I stopped her, trying not to block her exit, not wanting her to fear me. "You're okay, but I can't help you unless I know how. Right?"

"Coke," she whispered, and the puzzle pieces were coming together. "I never did it before."

I jerked my thumb toward our dead homie. "And that guy gave it to you?"

She nodded, mumbling nonsense.

"Sonny got upset," I said.

Maggie agreed once more. "I-I never took it before. I just—I don't know. I wanted-wanted to fit in." That made no sense unless they were partying with a bunch of people. "Everybody—they do it. Mary, she told me," she spoke of one of the wives, I knew that, "it'd pick me up. Vinny—" Ant's girl "—said I was-was a drag, not fun, and I wanted to stay, spend more time with Santino. And I wanted…"

"You wanted to fit in," I whispered, knowing the level at which my brother's crowd—the younger generation—still parties.

"I was fine until-until—"

"Sonny found out," I finished for her, guessing he put on a show for his wife by slaying her dealer.

"We were only talking." She hugged herself. "I wasn't—" Maggie began to panic again, pulling her dress down to cover her thighs. "I paid for it. I didn't-I didn't—" Sonny probably accused her of some wild shit, too. "I love Santino with all my heart. I'd never…and I wasn't flirting. I'd never."

"Uh…" I blew out a breath. "What else…did he do?" If Sonny'd had the faintest thought Maggie was flirting, doing something remotely like that, there was no telling what the fuck he did.

She kept her mouth shut, her cries mumbled as she held her stomach.

I turned when Gio and Ant entered the office. Their intentions were plain as day, as they had supplies with them. They were the cleaning crew.

"Let's go." I ushered Maggie out of the office, placing my hand over her eyes when she wouldn't stop staring. "Where's Sonny?" I asked my brother-in-law and cousin.

Gio looked just like Aro as he lit a cigarette. "By the bar."

"Maggie-Mags…" Ant had pity, actual sympathy in his gaze. "Hey…don't—"

She cowered away from him, burying her head into my chest. "Shhh," I soothed, staring at my cousin.

"He fuckin' lost it," he whispered, pointing to his temple. "Sonny—"

"Shut up!" Maggie snapped at Ant.

My cousin put his hands up.

Once we left the office, I escorted Maggie toward the back. Her driver, Christopher, had been one of the jokers outside.

"I can't leave," she pleaded, stopping me. "I-I need—"

"Trust me," I said. "Hold it together, okay? Don't talk to anyone—no one."

"I know," she whispered. "I need to see Santino…That wasn't, wasn't my Santino." She threatened to break down again.

"Go home. Eat something, even if you don't think you can. Eat something small. Drink a lot of water, and then take a bath to relax." I'd be sending Jordan over tomorrow. They share secrets—no matter how different their home lives are. And it made me sick to my stomach thinking Sonny might have hurt her in another way. "I bet by the time you're done, Sonny—"

"He hates me—was gonna kill me." Her body slumped against the wall to sob. "He's not gonna come home. I need him—"

"He'll be home, groveling, begging for your forgiveness…in a little while. Trust me." My stomach tied in knots, wanting to kick his ass. "He doesn't hate you—could _never_ hate you. In his mind…he loves you _too_ much."

Even if I was shocked, couldn't grasp what was happening, I could understand him going nuts. "He's going to beg and feel like shit, and he's going to come crawling back to you…once he has his head, realizes."

"That-that wasn't my husband." Sadly, it was likely just a side of him she hadn't seen before.

"What'd he do?" I asked again, since she'd seemed to calm down.

Her head whipped to my left, and we watched the man of the hour—my brother—come toward us. "Santino…" She reached for him.

Sonny wouldn't look at me, grabbing ahold of Maggie's bicep. "Chris is gonna take you home."

"Back off." I tried to get him to let go, but Maggie threw herself into his arms.

Sonny wouldn't or couldn't embrace her back, and I'd never seen that expression before.

It scared me, made me take a step back, but not out of fear.

"I'm sorry," Maggie cried.

My brother's face threatened to crumble, but he was fast to lean away.

"Come _with_ me." Maggie begged. "Please, please, please—"

"Stop." His voice was a calm whisper, although he couldn't look at his wife either.

"I'll take her home," I said.

Truth be told, I should stick around—be there for my brother—but I didn't want to. Whatever guilt, whatever remorse he felt; I wanted that motherfucker to stew in it. I wanted him to realize that he'd made a mistake, and that he wasn't some larger than life entity.

He can't get away with whatever he'd done, even if Maggie might have already forgiven him.

Sonny stared at me now.

"No," Maggie protested. "Santino, please—"

His cold gaze flashed to her, and she stepped back to bump into me, scared.

"I—" Sonny put a hand out for hers, only to take his back. "Let Dame take you home." His lips lingered on her forehead while she clawed at him. "Stop!" He grabbed her hands, pushing her into my arms again, before turning to leave us.

"Let's go." I placed my arm around her.

She tried to fight me.

"Maggie…" I didn't want to restrain her in any way.

My sister-in-law stopped, staring as Sonny disappeared. "Yeah…" She was much calmer now. "I don't—I just don't fit in here. I shouldn't even try."

"You fit in perfect with the fam." I tried to be lighthearted. "You're definitely a Cullen."

She studied her shoes. "He's not going to come home. I can't—I don't wanna be alone...I just want my kids. Can you drop me off at—"

I disagreed. "If you want, come chill with Jordan and me, but…"

"It's hard to lie—explain to Kylie and Bella."

I looked around us. "You _know_ you can trust Jordan—trust her not to say a word. But leave out the guy on the floor."

She wore a hint of a smile. "Am I horrible because—because I don't even care about that? I can't see his fault—and I love him, no matter what he did." Maggie turned for the door, only now I had second-thoughts about leaving with her.

Once outside, I saw that regardless of what I'd told Sonny, Chris had already pulled his car around. He was waiting on Maggie.

"If Jordan's home, go to my crib," I said.

Maggie didn't reply, silently getting into the backseat. "Tell him—tell him I love him. That I'm sorry. That if he doesn't wanna come home for me, come home for the kids—"

"He's going to come home. I promise you." I patted the trunk, indicating Chris could take off.

I watched them drive away, and then I turned when Sonny rushed out. He was chasing them, running after the car, but then it turned to leave the alley.

"Fuck!" He threw a milk crate.

His guys scattered, like the kids did earlier, running back into the club.

I remained, totally fucking disgusted. "What the hell did'ju do?"

He put a finger up as he started to pace.

"All that because she tried some yak?" I asked. "How many lines did _you_ snort tonight?"

He stopped. "I haven't—"

"Please...Sonny, _please_ tell me you're high," I pleaded. "That this—what you did, how you're acting—that it's not really you straight."

Sonny licked his lips. "I haven't touched that shit in years," he whispered. "I snapped. You have no idea what she did—"

"She's a kid. So…she snorted a little yak." I shrugged.

"She's. My. Wife!" he shouted. "I trusted her to occupy herself, chill with Vinny and that bitch…I didn't think she'd run to—"

"You honestly think she was up to no good? Looking to do you dirty?" I cut him off again, all his rebuttals ridiculous. "Come on, Sonny."

My brother laughed. "She'll never do it again. She'll never even _look_ at another dude or touch that shit!" He was getting worked up again.

I grasped my hair, my body stiffening. "All she's _ever_ done is love you—have your kids, raise your babies, and fuck _you_! That's it! She's never ever done anything. What the fuck were you doing at eighteen? When she was getting married and pregnant? What were you doing at twenty-four? While she's raising three kids, being a wife to you? Gimme a fuckin' break here!" I ranted. "She's not allowed to do anything…She goes outta her way to be _outta_ her element to be _closer_ to _you_—"

"I proved my loyalty. Look at what I did! Now she knows I'm not sleepin' around—"

I blinked, staring at him. "You once told me…I got a little rough with Amelia, and you said we didn't love the same." I gestured between us, hoping he knew what I meant, that he remembered.

Sonny shrugged, unapologetic now. "How the fuck would _I_ have known? Before I met Maggie, I'd never loved anyone. I didn't know what love was!"

"I…I still don't know if you do." I pitied him.

"Fuck you! You have no idea." His eyes widened. "I fucking worship her! I love her more than I could ever explain—it's hard for me to comprehend myself. She just needed a reminder." I believed him even if I didn't understand his way of doing things.

I snorted. "I can't see your logic."

"_You_ don't have to." He lit a cigarette. "Maggie will. She'll forgive me." He was remorseful again, his words nearly forming a question.

"She will," I confirmed. "You don't—"

"I've _never_ deserved her," he whispered.

"No, you don't deserve to be…forgiven as easily," I explained.

His chin wrinkled and his face crumpled. "I am sorry, Dame…I'm so fuckin' sorry. I don't know what happened." He glanced to the sky. "I lost control…The way she screamed, looked at me…" He took in a deep breath. "She was scared shitless…I was a fucking monster…I never wanted her to see that." He wiped at his cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Dame."

"Don't tell_ me_ that," I said, and I wanted to console him, but I wasn't sure if I should.

"I'm sorry." He cried into his palms, shoulders shaking.

"What'd you do? Not the guy…" I reached to squeeze his shoulder.

He cleaned the tears from his face, taking a deep breath to compose himself. "I…I…I—" Sonny was tongue-tied, and no doubt ashamed.

I turned to my car. "I'll give you a lift."

It was apparent now, that no matter what_ I_ said, no matter how_ I_ judged him—Sonny was going to beat himself up for days and, possibly, during the weeks to come. Unfortunately, no matter how much he hated himself, there was no guarantee he won't do something like this again—snap, fucking lose it.

It's his temper, not necessarily Sonny. His behavior might have been attributed to his location, his temper amplified by the current setting. Sonny has to be a certain way around his associates—he's the boss and must act as such—and pissing him off while he's playing that role…?

Well, there was obviously a reason why his guys ran into the club as soon as he'd come outside. They knew he was heated, and they were scared shitless.

Sonny's reputation—that temper—precedes him, the guys know him, and he's made quite a few examples out of some. Sonny's no small potatoes now. I remember a time when he'd be reluctant to pull a trigger—not because he was scared or sympathized. He just couldn't be bothered. Little by little, though, hits started not to bother him. Now…? He doesn't give a fuck, just as hardcore as our father.

But that temper . . .

My brother is a _completely_ different person when he's the boss, nothing like that father/husband persona he rocks while at home, which I'd like to believe is the _real_ Sonny.

Regardless, I know he'd never hurt Maggie in his right mind.

Though, he is possessive and obsessive when it comes to her.

And we do tend to hurt the ones we love the most…

While I totally understood how and why he might have blacked out in anger—since I've done that before, too—I didn't want him to get away with it, God forbid it happened again and he goes too far.

Yes, he needed to stew in his misery, so that maybe he'd never do it again.

But I knew he had to go home, face the music, grovel, and apologize.

And I know Maggie will forgive him. She's more upset—no matter what he'd done—at the thought of him hating her, not coming home.

"I can't," Sonny said, his face incredulous as he continued to cry. "What I did…it shouldn't be forgiven, Dame. I can't look at her. I can't—"

"You have to go home sometime." I widened my arms. "Or, you gonna go hide at Eclipse…? Just like Dad. Is that who you are now? Dad…? Instead of saying you're sorry…" I chuckled. "Shit gets tough, and _Sonny_ gets going? What…? You're gonna wait until _she_ begs you to come home some more? Until she seeks you out? Don't do that shit to her! At the very fucking_ least_, she deserves your bullshit apology."

"You have no right to judge me—"

"You give a fuck what _I_ think?" I found that funny. "You don't wanna know what I think. Get your ass home and get to groveling—even if it's unnecessary. You can put on a show—show everyone how big your balls are, but you're gonna be a coward? Hide from _her_?"

"Fuck you." He spat. "Just—" Sonny went for the door.

I got in his way. "Get in the car."

His eyes met mine, and he tried to move me, placing his hands on my shoulders. Taking the opportunity granted, my arm swung, jabbing his jaw with an uppercut that sent him back a couple feet.

Sonny smiled, pausing in his movements. "You really wanna do this, Dame?" He spit blood onto the pavement.

I ignored the sting in my hand, and fighting him was the last thing I wanted to do. Not to mention the possible damage I could do to my hand—I'm a surgeon and all.

Like times before, I knew Sonny could take me easily, but I didn't think he would—not in_ this_ moment.

In _our_ way, the way in which _we_ love each other, he knew I was looking out for him.

He needed that hit, that bop to snap him into a reality—the pain for penance.

"You been workin' on that swing?" He took off his jacket, throwing it onto the truck of my car, but he hadn't run for me. Sonny was waiting, wanting me to strike him again. "Let's go, big shot." He widened his arms. "Let's see what'chu got!"

"Do I have to?" I asked. "Or, can we not, and just pretend I kicked your ass?" My lips pulled into a smirk, and I couldn't help it.

"_You_ kick _my_ ass?" He was suddenly in hysterics.

I shrugged. "I'm not a kid, some punk anymore. I'll give it all I got, if it's that important."

He chuckled. "I don't even know who you are anymore."

"I could say the same about you, but…" I raised a brow, staring the Skip down.

"You're so quick to compare. Our father's a great man," he said. "The apples didn't fall too far from the tree—so fuckin' what? You got yourself fooled, Dame. I just hope that ugly beast inside you stays hidden."

"This isn't about me." I pointed to myself. "But, if you want me to…be the person I used to…" I could make an exception and shut myself off, be a prick and hit him where it hurts by fucking with his life.

Again, I can't accurately explain why I've done the things I have, but I blame most of it on being empty. Like, I'd lost my soul for a few years, and Jordan gave it back.

The truth remains—I'm not that person anymore.

"You really wanna throw down? I'm asking you to be an adult, face your problems, like you used to _beg_ me to, and go home. Don't you remember?" I asked. "You used to fuckin' beg and plead with me to face the world guns blazing—not to hide. That's what you're doing, being a coward. Please, Sonny. Deal with this now before it gets worse—don't stay gone."

I took his suit jacket that rested on my car and gave it to him. "Don't do that shit to Mags, man." When he wouldn't take his jacket, I draped it over his shoulder.

Sonny had no reply, staring away and pushing his hair back.

"But you know what?" I smiled. "My own wife—she's waiting for me, and I'm content to turn my back. You know what the right thing to do is…I just hope you wise up." I walked toward my car. "When Maggie knocks—comes to my door crying, I'll let her know you're at Eclipse."

He nodded.

My brother never has run away, and I couldn't believe he was gonna do that shit now. It saddened me, made me think him a heartless prick.

"When Maggie beats herself up, I hope she believes me—that_ you're_ the asshole, so she don't blame herself…I mean, hey, you never know. Maybe she'll up and change the locks on you, or take the kids and go." Reaching my car, I stared back at him. "I'll be sure to coddle your kids, too, when that ask where Daddy is."

I opened the car door. "I'll try to soothe them as best I can—no worries." I entered my car, wondering when his dumb ass would get in.

"Wait," he blurted, suddenly rushing to enter the passenger side.

I smiled to myself before I started the car.

Maybe he did something horrible, but he was going home—Maggie was going to forgive him, and I bet they're back to normal by tomorrow or in a couple of days.

We didn't say much during the ride back to Bay Ridge. Sonny just stared out the window, and I caught him crying a few times. He also apologized to me, or God, since he continued to look up to the sky.

I had a feeling, thought I knew what he'd done, but he continuously refused to tell me. The marks on Maggie's neck, their behaviors…the dead guy and his brains on the floor.

When we entered Brooklyn, he grabbed a chicken leg from the bucket.

That action actually had me more upset than the scene in the alley.

_I didn't say anything. _

And I tried to remember the objective I had earlier.

Jordan—my light at the end of every tunnel—was waiting for me.

We have three days off, and maybe we could rent a cabin somewhere for the remainder of the weekend. We could—in a way—show Izzy what camping really is, the woods.

Meanwhile, I was sure Maggie had met up with Jordan, and my wife might hold the pussy back outta spite. She never warmed up to my brother, but she's always been pleasant and a great friend to Maggie. I know my wife fears Sonny, only seeing him as what his is, and not who. But she adores my dad. My father hasn't run outta steam by any means. He's just different—Pop-Pop—to Izzy and Jordan.

"Chris just dropped her off and bounced?" Sonny left the car as soon as I pulled into my driveway.

I shut the engine down, taking in our surroundings.

From my side window, I could see Maggie and Jordan in the living room. But all the lights over at Sonny's place were off, and Maggie's driver wasn't parked at the curb—like he should be.

Then, I jumped, fumbling to get out of the car.

When Sonny made it to his lawn, two dudes hopped out of his hedges.

I was quick to grab my pistol from under my seat.

But it all happened too fast.

* * *

_**Thank you for reading. **_

_**Chapter Four is coming soon!**_


	4. Damion Chapter 4

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

* * *

**"Life's Little Moments"**

**Chapter Four**

**_Damion POV_**

_When Sonny made it to his lawn, two dudes hopped out of his hedges. _

_I was quick to grab my pistol from under my seat. But it all happened too fast. _

Before I could intercept or fire—thank God, I didn't fire—Sonny was on the ground.

More than likely sent here by my father—since, as per Dad, sometimes the Boss needs a beat down, too—my uncle and Aro were beating Sonny with baseball bats.

"What the fuck?" I shouted, running to stop them.

"Relax!" Carlisle knocked him down when Sonny tried to get up. "We know not to get his head!"

Aro abandoned his bat to kick at Sonny, and then I realized they were using Wiffle Ball bats—those yellow plastic shits the kids use to play ball in the backyard. "We grabbed these from this fucker's yard." They obviously belonged to my nephews.

"This a joke?" I tried to cover my smile.

Carlisle wacked me in my ass, which stung like a motherfucker, and I was almost brought to my knees. "Was that funny?" He can't let the past die; there's always animosity between us.

I gritted my teeth, raising my fist, not giving a fuck.

Aro pushed me. "Back up, son. This don't concern you."

They'd since stopped beating him, and Sonny coughed out, "Point taken."

Carlisle sighed. "We're just following orders." On the other hand, my uncle and Sonny are like BFFs.

"Oh my God!" Maggie cried, running outta my house. "What are you doing?" She got onto the grass. "Leave him alone. I mean it!" Maggie threw her shoe at Aro. "Go!" She chucked the other one at Carlisle, and they were laughing their asses off.

Especially since my sister-in-law is about as threatening as a kitten. "Santino…?" She wrapped her arms around him.

"I'm fine—deserved it." He squeezed her. "I'm so fuckin' sorry, baby." His voice broke; he was crying again.

Jordan stared from our stoop, not the slightest bit alarmed. "Is he…alive?"

I nodded, looking down to my brother. He still embraced his wife, his shoulders shaking as he cried into her lap.

"You all right?" Carlisle nudged his ass with his foot. "Come on. We didn't hurt'ya too bad." He extended his hand for Sonny's.

"Let that sorry motherfucker crawl inside." Aro pulled my uncle away but handed Maggie back her heel. "I'm a good guy, baby girl." He touched her chin.

She pulled away. "Go! Get off my property!" Maggie had venom in her tone—forever loyal to Sonny. I don't know why that loser would ever question such a thing. He can be a total fuck, but Maggie would risk life and limb to protect him; Sonny would do the same for her.

_The melodrama for this evening had come to a close. _

_Thank God. _

Carlisle and Aro still found her hilarious. "Who she remind you of right now?" Aro asked him.

My uncle smiled, crouching low to them.

"I'll call Skip!" Maggie grabbed the bat and was quick to raise it. "I said go!"

"Who do you think sent us here?" Aro asked her. "We did this—for your honor." He pinched her cheek.

Maggie narrowed her eyes. "I'll call Bella—" She actually swung the bat, but it didn't hit anyone.

"Awww, Mags. You're no fun. I mean, he's not hurt." Aro gestured to Sonny.

"I don't care! I'm not fuckin' around!" Maggie made to get up.

And even I was taken aback by her recent tone.

"Relax, baby." My brother steadied her, stealing the bat and landing a smooch on her cheek. "It's cool…I deserved that for being…for…I deserve a lot more than that." He buried his face in her hair, likely embarrassed by his tears.

"_Are_ youse cool?" Carlisle asked. "For real?"

Still too ashamed, Sonny couldn't even look at _him_—King Fuck-up, Carlisle Cullen. "Yeah." He rasped, getting to his feet to pull his wife up. Sonny hugged her close to his side, looking down to search her eyes. "Baby…"

"I'm fine," Maggie whispered. "As long as _we're_ fine…I'm okay. You didn't…do anything wrong. I'm yours, and…You just can't hate me." She got emotional again. "I'm sorry…I was tired, and I wanted us to leave…go to the campout." Now Maggie looked embarrassed. "And, apparently, I'm no fun to be around. I don't fit in with your friends." She sounded a little juvenile.

But in truth, I can't see Maggie being down with criminals, drug dealers and hustlers, or the skanky bitches who ride their coattails, either.

_Good for her—being better than them_, I thought.

Despite the slutty outfit and the hooker heels she wore, Maggie's a goof but she's classy. She's like Kylie—a really good kid.

My brother is way past the glitz and glam of sipping Cristal, partying with those who are superficial. He doesn't chill out for fun; his presence is mandatory. Hopefully, Maggie will believe that now.

Meanwhile, my sister also goes through the same thing with Gio. He has a strong stomach, taking after his dad and embracing being a cleaner—which I doubt Kylie knows about. But he runs Midnight Sun. He's the manager, and that place is actually back to its former glory. It's making more money than ever before, so I hear.

Plus, Gio is still so far up my sister's ass, I can't believe she'd ever think he'd stray.

Like the nosy fuckers we are, we were all in their business, watching Sonny and Maggie talk it out on their lawn. Even Jordan came down the steps to hear them better—Carlisle and Aro openly staring at them, and I was right there, too. However, they were none the wiser of their audience, or they just didn't give a fuck.

"Why didn't you say somethin', baby?" Sonny's chin wrinkled. "We coulda camped out. I would have loved—" his voice broke "—_loved_ that. You gotta open your mouth. You say you wanna go out—I took you out." He shrugged. "But, no. You think I'm fuckin' around. _That's_ why you wanted to go out…" He shook his head. "I could never do you dirty, baby." He stared at Carlisle and Aro. "Tell her. I'm a fuckin' altar boy when it comes to that shit."

They agreed with my brother, but they would have agreed even if he wasn't.

To most of the older dudes, there are different degrees of loyalty.

Beating on your wife is almost a hell-worthy trespass.

When it comes to everything else, there's a code of silence.

"Maggie, my love, there's no one else but'chu. You're my world, my heart, and I…Baby, I am so fuckin' sorry." He placed a smooch on her lips, cried into her mouth.

"No, I'm sorry," Maggie whispered. "I can't…I can't see your fault. You just scared me…I…" Words failed her.

"We'll talk more about _that_ later." He palmed her cheeks, thumbing her tears away while eyeing the rest of us.

I know he doesn't want anyone to know what he did. If Dad sent Carlisle and Aro here, he must know the gist, definitely more than we do. The man's got eyes everywhere.

"You don't like Veronica? She's gone. I'll fire her next time I'm at Eclipse," Sonny said.

Maggie looked away from him. "I'm sorry. Don't hate me. You have to forgive me—"

"There's nothing to forgive, and I could never," Sonny said. "Never, never…baby._ I_ don't work without you." He leaned down to kiss her silly, and I was relieved.

_Now…the melodrama had officially come to an end, credits rolling. _

"How ya doin', Dr. Cullen?" Aro winked, smiling brightly at my fucking wife as he walked onto my lawn.

Jordan giggled. "I'm great, Mr. Andino. How are you?"

"Eh…I could complain, but who'd listen?" He winked and continued toward my crib.

He just _had to_ talk to her.

Their banter is always friendly, but…

Instantly vexed, a tightness in my chest—since this wasn't the first time his eyes had wandered over to Jordan's tits—I grabbed one of those yellow bats and ran for him.

I knocked him in his back, which made his old-ass drop.

"Ha! See somethin' you like, ya fuck?" I got him in the gut when he rolled over, and once again in his hip.

These bats were genius—better than a Louisville Slugger. They produce that wincing sting, that nearly paralyzing kind of pain. They probably don't leave many marks, and they can't kill a fucker.

"You don't look at her no more—" I got his outer thigh.

"Damion!" Jordan clapped and stomped her feet. "What's the matter with you?" She pulled the bat away to hit my ass with it. Her blow wasn't as forceful as my uncle's—nowhere near it, but it still hurt. My wife just wanted my attention.

"Oww!" I rubbed my butt, calming down.

Jordan threw it to the ground. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right." I exhaled, feeling much better.

"Mr. Andino—" Jordan bent to help him, which made more of her cleavage visible "—are you okay?"

He was putting on an act, playing on my wife's compassion—grimacing and shit, all slow and still on our lawn.

"Stop frontin'. You ain't hurt!" I spat down to him, pulling Jordan into my side. "Come get this," I told my uncle.

Aro was _almost_ on his feet, but I kicked him in the ass—not hard—and he fell back.

"Shit…" Carlisle moseyed over to Aro. "Shake it off . . ." He extended his hand. "If you were scopin' Shorty's rack, you were wrong, bro."

"I was not!" Aro defended.

"You're a fuckin' liar!" I advanced toward him.

"Get in the house before someone calls the cops!" Jordan pushed me. "I can't believe you." But she had the right idea, and I was fast to follow her.

Chuckling, unable to contain it now, I ran up my steps before Aro could get me. He's a lot faster on his feet.

"Touch him, and I'll kill you," Sonny said, which made me whip around.

Aro stopped in his tracks to back away from my house with his hands raised.

"Both'a'youse . . .go on." Sonny again. "You made your point—thanks."

I stared, watching as our "uncles" walked across the street. I wasn't scared of Aro, far from it. But I was defending my wife's honor, and I knew he could kick my ass—no matter how old.

I'd try my best, however . . .

Nowadays, I'm a lover, not a fighter . . .

I'm a dad and a husband, a boring, taxpaying yuppie, and I drive a Prius.

_I'm the happiest I've ever been. _

But I'm also the Skip's son, have a pair of brass balls, and no one's gonna look at what's mine without suffering consequences.

_That's just how it is._

I turned to Jordan, and the first thing I saw was her cleavage, and her tight yoga pants. "What the fuck are you wearin'?" I nudged her into our foyer. "No wonder he looked at you."

Jordan groaned, reaching up to squeeze my jaw. "Cut the shit!" Her sneer made me smile. "He's just a nice old man."

"Aro?" I was shocked since he's anything but.

Maybe he's older—hell, Carlisle and my father are getting up there in age, too—but they're still who they are. Not much has changed during the past seven years. They still have chicks fawning and flirting, and the three of them do whatever they can to stay young—including pumping iron, exercising. They're in their late fifties, not even sixty yet. These days, fifty is the new forty—whatever the fuck. I don't check Aro out like I'm gay or whatever. But I hear my mother bitch all the time, about how Dad just gets better looking with age...some comparison to a fine wine.

Aro's not just some nice old man.

"You men—you're so fucking stupid!" She backed away from me. "Your brother's a douche bag and a half, too! Run and tell dat!" Her attitude, her rant was adorable. "He's a fucking psycho! Maggie should take the kids and leave his crazy ass!" She was even louder, probably hoping our neighbors—my brother—heard her. "I had to give her a Xanax just so she'd stop crying and talk to me...and you don't wanna know what he did."

I rolled my eyes, leaning on our banister as she entered the kitchen.

"And there's nothing wrong with my clothes!" She continued. "I look good, and so what if someone looks at me? I'm _your_ wife, you dumbass!" Jordan paused. "I didn't mean that. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, you did." Regardless, I wasn't offended.

With locking my door, shutting out the world, all those problems—they disappeared. I was sure that my brother and Maggie would be fine, that Aro won't hold a grudge—for fear of my mother's wrath—and that tomorrow things would be back to normal.

"There's plenty wrong with your clothes!" I hollered, trying to sound menacing and like I wanted to fight.

She frowned, pulling her t-shirt away from her abdomen and coming toward me with a can of Diet Coke. "What?" She actually believed me.

"They should be in the hamper—on the floor somewhere." I grinned.

Jordan tried to scowl at me but failed miserably. Even so, her humor was short-lived. "Poor Maggie. I can't even…She tries so hard."

"Hey…" I palmed her cheek. "Maggie's tougher than you think." I definitely didn't want their problems to become our problems.

"Despite what _I_ think, they're just…they're usually so happy." She wrapped her arms around me. "I'm sad for them, and it's…it's stupid, how everything could be perfect one minute, and then complete shit moments later. She was excited to go out—be a part of his world, and for what?"

I hugged her tight, trying to stop my hands from roaming down—be soothing and _not_ her perv husband.

"I don't hate Sonny. He's just an asshole. He doesn't realize how cruel he is to her sometimes."

"I know." I kissed her hair, swaying us, and she quieted down.

My hands were suddenly on her ass, kneading, as my cock sprang to life. Then Jordan lifted her head, her eyes meeting mine. "We should talk."

"Huh…?" I stopped moving. I thought we'd kiss, strip each other down, and race for the Jacuzzi—have some animalistic sex. "Last _I_ knew…_we _didn't have any problems." I waved a finger.

"I had my blood drawn this morning—"

"Fuck. Why?" I was suddenly scared to death. "Just tell me. We'll deal with it, and don't sugar coat. Just tell me." I spoke mad fast, holding my breath.

"Oh, baby, relax." She pulled me down to kiss me gently. "It's nothing like that. I'm just . . . pregnant, about seven weeks." Jordan was nonchalant.

I stepped back, not sure I heard her correctly. "Seven weeks?" I didn't even know she'd missed a period.

Her face fell. "It's not like we're careful. It's unexpected, but—"

I shook my head, dumbfounded. "Wow…" We weren't trying, and it'd taken us a while to get pregnant with Izzy.

Long story short, Jordan isn't on birth control.

Sometimes, I come in/on other places, being creative, or I pull out, but…

And our daughter will be four in a few months.

It just never happened…hasn't happened.

"It's a surprise," I admitted. "I'm surprised, but…are we gonna…keep it?" I didn't wanna get excited—my hopes up—until I knew if she was happy or sad about it.

We are young in our careers. It's going to be another struggle—harder with two. But I've never been concerned about Jordan's lack of birth control. I figured when we had another one, we had one.

I wanted it.

Difficulties aside, I wanted it.

I wanted to be thrilled and kiss my wife, but I waited with bated breath.

"Ugh!" Jordan pushed me. "Yes, we're _keeping_ it! What's wrong with you?"

I shrugged. "Hey, if you didn't want it…I dunno." I grabbed her hand to pull her into my arms. "Two of them…another little Izzy." I grinned, wondering how we'd pull it off. I was happy to have another child; I just didn't know_ how_ we'd do it.

Jordan knew what I was thinking. "By the time this baby's born, you won't be a resident anymore. We'll have more time, you'll have a more flexible schedule, and maybe…I'll take a couple months off, maybe a year?"

"What?" I snorted. "You don't have to do that. We'll make it work…like we always do. Izzy's starting school. Kylie will have her own infant, but my mother will never let us hire a nanny. She'll jump to babysit."

"I don't want that." She frowned. "I…I never got to hear Izzy's first laugh…She took her first steps at your sister's." Jordan blew out a breath. "Then, she used to cry when we'd take her home because she didn't know me," she cried, becoming frantic.

"Damion, I can't. I won't do that again. I won't." She was a blubbering mess. "I won't and we're definitely having this baby—"

"Hey, now…" My heart broke as I wiped her tears away. "Izzy loves you so much…You're her whole world. She admires you, and she knows that mommys and daddys work, and it'll balance out when she starts school. You don't have to quit, or take an extended leave."

"No, you don't get what I'm saying." Jordan sniffled. "What if I _wanted_ to take time off? Overall, I'd have more time for Izzy, and I could also do wife stuff?" Her eyes were bright with excitement but still glassy with her tears. "I'd have to leave NYU, but…I'd rather work for a local hospital, anyway, when I'd go back. I could learn how to cook real meals. The laundry would always be done…_I could be your little woman_," she sang, poking my chest.

I laughed at my silly, beautiful wife, knowing she might hate that.

"What _used to be_ important…it's just not anymore." She grimaced. "Nothing's more important than you, Izzy, and now this baby." Jordan palmed her stomach.

I still didn't understand. "You were number one in our class. You got through residency…all to be a stay-at-home mom?"

She danced from foot to foot. "Not forever…and we'd be fine moneywise with your future salary and what we have at the bank. NYU is gonna try their hardest to keep you. That offer's in the bag, and other offers will start pouring in, too. In a couple of months, when you take the boards, other hospitals will be looking to scoop you up. There are no worries there, and it's not like I've ever cared for, nor treated myself to the 'finer things'...I'd never go on some extravagant shopping spree."

"Thank God for that," I commented, knowing my sister has pulled a few fast ones on Peto, nearly emptying their bank account like he had unlimited funds.

"We don't have a mortgage since the money your parents gave you paid for the house. All our bills would be paid, and it won't be a struggle...That's what I'm saying. Do you absolutely hate the idea of me—"

"It's not about me." I placed my finger to her lips. "I just want _you_ happy. We also have a while to hammer out the details. I don't want you making any rash decisions."

Yes, her missing out on some things is sad. I'm in the same boat, but I couldn't see her abandoning what she's worked her whole life for. She can do both, like she has, and she won't be miserable.

"I didn't marry you so you'd be my housekeeper." I lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles. "Plus…isn't it always more interesting when we gotta go commando?"

Jordan rolled her eyes. "And Bella looks at me like I'm a bad mother…buying Izzy new outfits if she's—"

"No way," I laughed, and I couldn't believe she thought that.

"Your dad calls her a little refugee, and I don't know if that's because she goes from house to house, or because . . . she looks like one." A giggle escaped her, and she palmed her face to groan.

I threw my head back and laughed. "She smells pretty good. At least we remember to bathe her."

"Damion…" she sighed. "It's not funny."

"Where is she goin'? To have tea with the queen of England?" I asked. "She chases Beth and Little Peto around all day, and those three get into _everything_."

"Sometimes, Izzy dresses herself in the morning, and I don't have the time to fight with her—"

I kissed her to shut her up. "My father teases—he means nothing bad by it, thinks it's funny. My mother does those things to help you, to make it easier for you, baby…" I palmed her cheek. "Mom, Kylie, and Maggie—they think you're a fucking rock star, and so does our daughter. Don't fuckin' doubt yourself. That'd piss me off. Stay home to be with the kids more, but don't…quit because…you think it's the right thing. I dunno."

She wore that contemplative, Izzy face.

"I don't care if you work, or stay home," I clarified. "And you have time to figure it out."

"Okay." She nodded and then let out a low, building squeal. "We're having a baby!"

I chuckled, squashing her to my chest. "I fucking love you!"

"I love you, too . . ." She rubbed up my chest, staring at my lips. I leaned to get some, so we could get to celebrating, but then she asked, "You think Izzy's gonna be excited?"

"Yeah," I said. "Definitely."

She sighed, pulling away to walk up the stairs. "You coming? There's a lot of kinky sex in your future, Dr. Cullen."

I fucking chased her sexy ass up the steps.

* * *

**Thank you for reading. **

**Please leave me your thoughts. **


	5. Damion Chapter 5

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

* * *

**"Life's Little Moments"**

**Chapter Five**

**_Damion POV_**

"Damion…" Jordan nudged me.

I grunted, too tired, wondering what was up.

"Damion…?"

"Wha—oww!" I was hit in the head, and the phone landed between us.

Jordan giggled, looking half asleep herself. "I'm sorry. I dropped it…Izzy's on the phone."

"Everything okay?" My eyes closed again. "I gotta get her?"

"She called to say good morning." Jordan handed me the phone before she left the bed. "You need to get up, too. We're leaving in ten minutes—breakfast at your parents'."

She was still naked, and that had my attention. I sat up to watch, placing the phone to my ear. "Hello?"

"Hi, Daddy."

"Who's this?" I asked, smiling.

"It's me."

"Me, who?" I chuckled.

"Damion, don't mess with her," Jordan whispered, throwing a t-shirt on.

"Izzy!" she shouted.

I pulled the phone away 'cause she was loud. "I know who are, silly goose."

"Na-Na made eggs—boogie eggs, like I like." She meant scrambled.

"Cool," I said. "How was camping?"

"Good…Can we go, um…where?" she asked someone.

"Six Flags." That sounded like Littlest Ed.

"—Frags," Izzy continued, coming in and out because she forgets to hold the phone right. "They goin' and I wanna go."

"When?" I asked.

"When?" Izzy mirrored.

"Tomorrow." Littlest Ed informed me.

"I'll talk to him." Now it was Little Sonny. "Unc?"

I grinned. "What's up?"

"Mom and Dad are taking us to Six Flags tomorrow." He was calm and well-spoken, which led me to believe my brother was around. "Izzy wants to come. And…what?" Now he spoke to someone else. "Oh, Pop-Pop said to get your ass ova hea for breakfast!" The line went dead; he'd hung up on me.

I collapsed back and turned to look at the clock. It wasn't even ten yet. "We goin' for breakfast?" I called out to Jordan.

She appeared, brushing her teeth. "Yeah…get a move on."

I smiled. "Uh…can we go to Six Frags wiff Beff and Widdlest Ed, and—"

Jordan giggled, her face lighting up. "That's tomorrow, right? You think Sonny and Maggie are still…gonna go?"

I nodded, furrowing a brow. "My brother loves that fuckin' place, and it'd be Izzy's first time. They have a kiddie park."

"I don't see a problem." Jordan shrugged, heading for the bathroom, as I remembered something from last night.

"Izzy spends too much time with the boys."

My wife came back into view. "Boys? You mean, our nephews?"

"Yeah…" I wasn't ashamed to say that. "I don't even know where to start, but she knows…boys and girls are different now. How do we even explain that?"

Jordan had wide eyes. "Easy. Boys and girls are different. End of story. She's three, but if you wanna get a Power Point presentation together, grab our books from med school—"

"Ha-ha," I said. "It fuckin' bothered me. They were whippin' their little dicks out in front of our daughter."

"What happens if we have a boy?" She raised a brow. "Izzy will probably point and stare—and knowing her, she'll probably poke it. Little boys play with their penises, which is normal. Hell, you still pull on that thing whenever you think no one's around."

"I know that." I stuck my tongue out, and Jordan hadn't put pants on yet. "Can I poke you…?"

On any other morning like this, Jordan would straddle me, fuck my brains out. We do that when the kid's here, too. Give Izzy her cereal, put on 'toons, and we get like an extra fifteen minutes.

But my wife wasn't interested. "I wanna go to your parents' and pick up Izzy. Then, later on, if we can sneak a poke…" She tickled my side.

"Yeah…" I agreed. "Are we telling them you're pregnant? They might give us money." I was just being real about it. "And by the time your shower rolls around, they'll have forgotten. Then they'll throw more money at us." That's what happened with Izzy.

"You know what?" She stared at me. "I want to celebrate this pregnancy." Jordan crawled toward me, and now she straddled me.

I held her hips and sat up.

"I don't wanna be all doom and gloom and worried the first trimester."

"Good." I nibbled on her jaw and growled like a dog.

"No…" She was indecisive again. "God forbid…I mean, we'd have to explain to Izzy."

"True." That saddened me.

"I know you gotta tell _someone_." She pecked my lips. "We'll tell Sonny and Maggie—they actually keep secrets."

"Kylie?" I felt bad leaving her out of the loop.

"Ha!" Jordan shouted, leaving me. "We tell her, we might as well tell everyone. Kylie can't keep a secret from your mom. Your mom can't keep shit from your father…and your father—"

"He'll put a sign on the lawn," I whispered. "Remember they did that shit to Sonny? Poor motherfucker's gotta go to prom, his wife's knocked up, and everyone knew but him."

She giggled. "That was funny, though. We waited 'til after the first trimester with Izzy, and then your mother was mad at me."

I chuckled.

"Oh, if we have a boy, we're not naming him Edward. There are enough in this family. I'm just letting you know from now. If it's a boy, we'll name him Damion, after you." She gasped. "The other day, Izzy told me that she wants people to call her 'Little Bewwa like Na-Na,' and how 'Little Sonny is Little Sonny'. She was too cute."

"Eh…she starts school, she can tell people to call her whatever. Izzy doesn't answer to Isabella as it is. Does she even know that's her name?" I wondered.

"She knows. Give her more credit than that. We've practiced on the chalk board, so she can recognize her name when she starts school." Her whole face fell and she ran from me. "Shit. Shit. Shit—" was chanted down our hallway.

Alarmed, but knowing she'd just forgotten something, I finally got out of bed to take a piss.

Then it dawned on me—how much everything could be tearing Jordan apart. The whole…Type A personality, perfectionist thing is hard to pull off when you're juggling two major roles.

Essentially, Jordan hasn't changed that much since I met her—since we started dating. She still strives for the best outcome of every situation, like a personal competition. Jordan doesn't procrastinate, but she does forget things—clocking over sixty hours a week at work and then being a mother. I pull my weight. I do whatever I can, whatever…she tells me to.

"I forgot—look at this list!" She flashed me a piece of paper. "It's fucking preschool! She needs all this stuff, and it all has to be labeled." She groaned. "We're paying for her to go there. I don't know why she needs all these supplies. I mean, what the fuck? The school doesn't supply anything? That's dumb." Preschool and pre-K aren't mandatory. Both are actually like glorified daycare, to be honest. "She starts school Tuesday—"

"It's Saturday," I whispered. "We're off. We can drive out to Walmart after breakfast, put her name on everything tonight or Monday, and still go to Six Flags tomorrow."

Jordan visibly relaxed. "We can get _everything_ at Walmart—even new clothes for her. Or, will she even notice? The whole back-to-school/new wardrobe thing—that comes later. No, she needs new jeans and stuff. She grows like a weed, and my baby's wearing high-waters." She palmed her face again. "You see? I wish I had more time to—"

I grabbed her jaw to kiss her deep. Jordan moaned into my mouth, becoming less rigid within my embrace. "We'll work it out." I took the paper from her. "She's not neglected. She's a loved, cared for, and happy, healthy little girl…Who cares what she's wearing?" I asked.

Jordan stood on her toes to kiss me sloppy again.

"Damn…" I cleared my throat. "Let's get ready to go."

Her cheeks were flushed. "Sure, now that I can go for a quickie—"

I was still naked, and I stepped back to gesture to my cock. It was hard. I couldn't help it. "Get on the bed." I stroked my dick, biting back a moan.

Jordan stepped backward, her hand trailing down, going between her legs to play with her clit—she showed me, made sure I saw.

I placed the list on the sink and followed.

"I want you…" she whispered.

"Turn around." My stomach filled with excitement.

Last night was amazing, but that was last night.

We slept in between, and so…I was over the fucking moon.

Jordan was on all fours, her ass out…

"Take this off." I pushed her shirt up.

She pulled if off, and then I pulled her up to me, her back flush against my chest. "So sexy," I whispered, nibbling on her earlobe.

She leaned into my mouth, shuddering, and she was still playing with her clit.

My hands spanned her breasts, palming those bad boys before tweaking and pinching her nipples.

Jordan was panting, a heated mess, and then she leaned over. "Give it to me good, Cullen."

My cock found her fast, and I fucked her slowly—enjoying the view. I'd get real deep with a little force and pull back slow. She felt amazing, and my toes kept wanting to curl.

"Faster!" Jordan was really working her clit, about to come already.

"Gimme at least ten minutes, woman." I stilled my hips and spanked her ass to watch it jiggle.

"I'm close…" she moaned. "Close…please."

"All right." I grabbed her hair to give it to her hard and fast for about a minute before she came—shouting my name, "Cullen!" But I didn't stop. Not even when she relaxed, resting her cheek on the mattress.

The fucking phone rang, and she answered. "He-Hello?" Her voice was shaky from her being jostled. "Hang-hang on," she giggled, trying to hand me the fucking thing.

I huffed, slowing down. "What?"

"Don't 'what?' me!" It was my mother.

And I hung up on her.

"What happened?" Jordan asked.

Agitated, I picked up speed, as the phone rang again.

"Don't answer it—"

"It—it could be—"

"No!" I was close, a sweat dewing because I was chasing my release now—nervous I might not get it.

"H-he-hello?"

I fucked her as fast as I could, clamping my eyes closed, and I ignored her when she tried to give me the cordless—my body stiffening as I rammed into her as deep as I could to come. "Fuck!" I growled out, out of breath and slowing once more. "Damn…" Her pussy always feels too good.

Jordan crawled away from me, tossing me the phone.

"Hello…?" I collapsed face-first into our bed.

"I, um, I didn't know you guys were…you know," Mom giggled, "doing it."

"They were fuckin'?" Dad asked. "Good."

"I was givin' her a beatin'." Anything was better than them knowing we were…really fucking. Kidding.

"Yeah, right. I hope you gave it to her good, baby boy…Youse missed breakfast!" Now her tone wasn't as friendly. "Izzy wouldn't eat—waiting for you guys. I know it's tough, and I know you know how to act right. So, do it! If you couldn't make it, you shouldn't have said you would. She was disappointed, and we were all here . . . You don't screw wit' Na-Na's babies!" It was her turn to hang up on me.

"Shit!" I felt like crap as I left the bed. "Babe…?" I grabbed bullshit clothes to throw on, getting into my jeans while Jordan left the bathroom. "Lemme run over and grab Izzy. We missed breakfast, and…all the other kids are going home. Mom and Dad have plans." There was no way I'd let Jordan feel guilty. "Take a shower and get ready to go shopping. I'll be back in ten minutes."

"Okay," she agreed.

Then I hauled ass to my parents' house. I didn't drive since they're literally around the corner. It took me three minutes—getting off the phone, throwing some clothes on, and running to their crib.

When I approached the house, voices filtered out from the back.

They were all still in the backyard—Dad and Sonny taking apart the tents.

"Daddy!" Izzy ran to me, like she did last night.

"Hey, you!" I hugged her tight, kissing that neck. "I missed you."

"I wanna go home." She pouted, playing with my chain. "I want Mommy gimme cereal."

"You got it, baby," I promised. "Go get your doll and say goodbye." She ran from me—still in PJs, but I didn't care if she left like that.

Mom left the house and did a double take at me. "I was _just_ talking to you."

I shrugged. "I got your message loud and clear—you were right."

She didn't comment, grabbing a Little Mermaid sleeping bag. "It's on the preschool list…for when they take naps."

"Thank you." I tucked it under my arm. "Seriously. Thank you." I hoped she truly knew how appreciative I was. "I didn't mean to mess with one of Na-Na's babies."

It's like they have names for their own crews. To my mother, they're "Na-Na's babies", and to Dad they're "his bruisers", and no one screws with them.

_I love it. _

One time, I asked my mother why she never traveled the world with my father—something she'd always wanted to do once he retired. She'd told me, _"Everything I could ever want and need is right here in Bay Ridge." _

"Don't forget. She has to bring lunch, too."

I nodded. "I think we can swing a few PB and Js."

Mom winked at me and then she ran when we heard screaming. It was a loud wail. I knew immediately that it wasn't Izzy, but I followed after my mother, going upstairs.

Maggie sat at the kitchen table with a crying Beth. "You're okay, baby. Let Mommy see." She held her daughter's cheeks.

Beth carried on. "My mouf…" she cried, and Maggie took her hand away from her mouth.

"She's probably more scared." Maggie hugged her close, rubbing circles into her back. "You're all right, my little love."

"We'll put ice on it," Mom said, going for the freezer.

There was no blood, but Beth was gesturing to her lip where it was a little red.

Littlest Ed came running into the room, and he was crying, too. "Mommy, Sonny hit me."

Maggie sighed. "Let me see—where'd he hit you?"

Littlest Ed showed her his arm, and there wasn't a mark or anything.

"You're okay." Maggie widened her eyes, looking to my mother, incredulously, and she hugged Littlest Ed to her side.

Mom snickered. "Whatta rat race, right?" I didn't get their inside joke.

Maggie rubbed her son's back. "Go tell Daddy."

Littlest Ed forgot about his tears, about to run as fast as he could to my brother.

"Come here." I caught him and picked my nephew up. "Where's your brother now?" I looked around for Izzy, too.

"Bathroom."

I nodded, placing him down, and then we walked down the hall. We passed my old bedroom, where I saw Izzy just sitting and playing with a lunchbox. "What's up?"

"I'm packing my stuff," she explained.

"Stuff?" We didn't drop her off with anything, and there was mad crap on the bed—Little Mermaid stuff everywhere.

"It's for school."

My shoulders dropped. "Na-Na bought it?" I knew that already. And it wasn't even a bad thing. Mom likes to help us any way she can. I just knew Jordan—even if she'd forgotten, was now looking forward to school shopping.

Izzy popped the top off her thermos. "She wants'ta spend Pop-Pop's money."

"Nice." I chuckled, grabbing her teeny school bag to see what would fit in it. Not much did, but there were some crayons and shit in a plastic bag. "Okay. Don't take anything out. It's packed and we gotta go."

"I can hold…this thing and Joe?" She showed me the thermos and her Cabbage Patch.

"Yeah."

"What is it?" she asked.

Without looking, I knew what she was talking about. "It's a thermos. You put juice and stuff in it for when you're not home."

She ran from me.

Without asking, I knew she was going to ask my mother to put juice in it.

And I totally forgot about my nephews, but my brother had made it into the house already. "I told you about keeping your hands to yourself." He scolded.

"He pushed Beth—made her cry. He was being a punk," Little Sonny defended.

"Then, you come and tell me or your mother," he spoke with his hands.

"I'm not a rat like that!"

Sonny looked defeated, and it wasn't even noon yet. "What am I gonna do with this kid?" he asked me.

"Beat him," I said.

Little Sonny gulped, taking a step back. "I'll be good. I promise, Daddy, honest." He nodded.

"Go get whatever stuff you have together. Tell your brother the same. We're leaving in five minutes." Sonny stood up while his son left the den. "I am exhausted."

"Mags keep you up all night talking?" I asked.

He nodded, scrubbing his face with his hand. "We got here mad early, too. We're going to Six Flags tomorrow—school starts in a couple days. We gotta go to Target or Walmart, get those last minute things for the kids . . . I know Maggie went back-to-school shopping last month—got the kids clothes and shit. I dunno what else they need." He shrugged. "I'mma sound like a piece-of-shit, but usually she goes on her way with Kylie—never subjects me to shopping."

"Don't bitch about it," I warned.

"I know that. Trust. I'm just cranky. Youse coming tomorrow?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yeah…we'll go. Are we spending the night?"

"Hell, no. We'll spend the day and drive back—kids'll sleep in the car."

"Mom and Dad coming, too?"

Sonny chuckled. "No, summer's over. Dad wants his wife back. Kylie and Gio aren't coming either, but Peto is . . . Can he ride with you and Jordan? I gotta…I told Blaze and Ronald they could come. Carlisle's all old. Ant could give a rat's ass, and I feel bad for them."

"Definitely." The twins are fourteen now and pretty well behaved. I just like the smaller kids better. "I'll take Beth, too." I could squeeze three boosters in the backseat.

"Bet." He patted my back. "You should borrow Mom's van."

"Good idea. Uh…" I looked over my shoulder, making sure no one was around. "Jordan's pregnant."

Sonny's face lit up. "Congrats, man!" He hugged me tightly, landing a loud kiss on my cheek.

"What's this?" Dad asked, entering the room.

"Damion just—"

"I needed a hug." I rushed out, thinking my father had perfect timing.

His eyes became slits, but when I didn't fess up to anything, and Sonny got the hint—Dad widened his arms. "You can hug your daddy, too."

"Oh…yeah." I felt weird embracing my father in this moment. But he got all into it, like I was still seven. "I love you," I said. "Thanks for setting up camp last night." At the end of the day, Sonny was right; my father is a great man.

"The girls didn't even sleep outside." Dad shook his head. "I woke up to find their tent empty, and all four of them were in my bed. I knew your mother wouldn't commit to sleepin' outside. Actually, no…their tent wasn't empty. Big Peto was sleeping in it, came over after he closed the club."

I chuckled. "Where are they now?"

"They left right after breakfast," Sonny told me.

"Daddy!" Izzy showed up. "I wanna go."

"My little refugee." Dad called her. "Come here."

"You refugee, Pop-Pop!" She pointed, sipping from the straw on her thermos.

"Gimme kiss." He pulled her into his arms, so she could land a wet one on his lips.

"I love you, my Pop-Pop." She petted his head. "Be good for Na-Na."

"Awww." My heart melted, and I wanted to hug them both again.

Dad was cracking up. "She likes it when I'm bad."

"No be bad." Izzy scolded, waving her finger.

"But Na-Na likes it," Dad defended.

Izzy puffed her cheeks; she had no rebuttal.

"Daddy, Eddie pushed me…" Beth came in.

"I know," my brother sighed, picking her up. "I'll see you guys later." He bent low to give Izzy a smooch, and then they left the room. My daughter chased them out.

"You okay?" Dad asked. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah…" I shrugged. "SSDD. You know."

"We're not going anywhere this weekend, but pretend we did."

"You got it." I slapped my hand to his.

Holding all of Izzy's stuff, I met up with my mother in the kitchen. "You didn't have to do this. We're not loaded but we have jobs," I teased.

She waved a hand. "That's just some stuff." Knowing my mother, it was most of it.

"Next time you see Jordan, can you tell her she's a good mom?" I asked. "She cares what you think for whatever reason."

Mom smirked. "You care what I think, too."

I didn't reply.

Mom sucked her teeth. "Of course, I will. Jordan's an excellent mother—"

"I think he's asking you to back off a little," Dad interrupted.

"No…" I was serious. "Hell no." Maybe Mom's overbearing and pushy, but you don't bite the hand that feeds you.

"Like…leave Izzy's mothering to Jordan," Dad reiterated.

"No," I said again, staring at him. "No way." I knew he might just want more of Mom to himself.

Mom's face paled. "Does Jordan think—"

"No," I repeated. "She's just having a hard time lately—juggling it all."

"We can take Izzy a few nights a week." Mom nodded. "Jordan's gonna drop her off here or at Kylie's for six-thirty. One of us will be taking her to school at eight-thirty. One of us'll pick her up. I can also give her dinner and a bath—"

I shook my head. "Don't read into anything," I laughed. "Just give her the compliment."

Mom agreed, but she looked so sad.

"Hey…what's up?" I asked.

"Nothing," she said. "I'm just trying to help. If it's too much, or youse need anything, I'm right here or _not_ here. Youse tell me."

"Thank you. I appreciate all your help." I pulled her into my arms, hating that look on her face, and my next words were on the tip of my tongue. "Jordan is, uh…I mean."

Mom gasped. "She's pregnant?"

My eyes widened, wondering how she knew.

My mother clapped and jumped into my arms. "It was just a guess. Wow!"

"Um…Christ. She's not that far along." I leaned away.

"Oh." She zipped her mouth and threw away the key.

"We don't wanna tell Izzy yet," I whispered.

"You heard that, Edward?" Mom gave Dad a bitch brow.

My father was giggling, pulling me away from my mother to embrace me. "Another one. I love it."

I rolled my eyes.

"I'll have something for you Monday." He patted my cheek; I knew he'd give us money.

"Jordan's wondering, having doubts as to how she'll do it all." Mom spoke to herself. "That's why she needs the compliment."

"Okay." It sounded good.

"My Na-Na banana!" Izzy shouted, making an entrance by jumping into the room, but then she fell back onto her ass.

Alarmed, I walked closer, but she was already getting up—planting her hands on the floor, sticking her ass in the air. "Iz okay, Daddy."

"Whatta you, drunk?" Dad asked her. "Falling, spilling your drink on my floor, your doll flying." He chuckled.

I held my gut to laugh, his words hilarious.

"You drunk, Pop-Pop!" She pointed that accusatory finger.

I grabbed a paper towel to wipe the floor.

"Come here, my sweet girl." Mom hugged the shit out of her. "I'll see you soon."

"I'mma miss you, my Na-Na." Izzy wrapped her arms around Mom's neck.

"You'll see me real soon. I promise." Mom kissed her hair.

"Okay . . . I'm hungry," Izzy said.

Before my mother could feed her, we left.

_Fucking finally. _

It took forever for us to make it to the curb. Every few feet, Izzy would stop to sip from her thermos. She'd also stop to look at anything interesting in front of people's houses. The sidewalk was just too interesting, too. This kid's got two speeds—slow as fuck or fast as hell—moseying or running. Nothing in between.

"Gimme this." It was getting on my nerves. "We gotta go." I put that Little Mermaid backpack on, and then picked her up, stomping down the block with all this crap, and my kid.

My daughter was none the wiser of my attitude. She sang a song I didn't know, and spilled apple juice down my shirt.

Sonny's garage door was open; they were home.

"All right." I placed Izzy down, hoping we could make it to the door in a timely manner, and that she wouldn't run into Sonny's garage. "Mommy's waiting for us."

"Mommy!" She ran like a monster was chasing her.

_Was that all I had to say? _

Jordan opened the door before Izzy got there.

Our daughter gasped and jumped into her arms, and I loved it.

And I hoped their reunion would soften the blow—coming home with all this stuff, telling my parents about the bun in the oven.

Well, Izzy was hungry, whined for cereal after about a minute. I was old news. Jordan busied herself with that while Izzy told her everything about last night.

I ran upstairs to take a shower, and I washed quickly.

The time ticking by, knowing I had to drop that bomb on Jordan, was making me nervous. The longer I stalled, waited, the worse it was going to be.

Fifteen minutes later, cleansed and dressed for the day, I walked down to the same scene. Izzy eats at a snail's pace.

"What's all this?" Jordan asked me, having seen the stuff I came in with. I bet she ignored the bags until I came back.

I grimaced. "Um…"

"Na-Na wanted to spend Pop-Pop's money," Izzy explained. "My school stuff."

"Wow…this stuff is great." Jordan placed her hand on the sleeping bag, and she was genuine, too. "Did you thank Na-Na?"

Izzy continued to eat the last of her cereal, suddenly engrossed, which meant she hadn't. The bright side was that she wasn't going to lie to her mother. I dug it.

"Remember to thank her," Jordan said as she started unloading the bags. It took her just a few minutes to make cross-references to the list we had. "There's a few things we still need."

"Cool." I wanted to just tell her already.

"Did you want a tuna sandwich?" My wife asked.

"I wanna halfsies." Izzy said.

Our daughter thinks it's chicken, and I bet it goes great on top of Trix.

"She probably gave your mom a hard time, didn't eat anything over there." Jordan looked to me but touched our daughter's face.

"She gets chips and chocolate over there," I laughed. "She fills up on crap at every opportunity. She's not hungry when mealtimes roll around." I pushed my wet hair back. "Right, Monkey?"

"I dunno." It was a good answer.

"We need to get stuff to pack her lunches, too. The school doesn't—"

"I knew that," Jordan defended, getting the tuna outta the cabinet.

"Hey…" I placed my hand on her stomach. "I, uh…I kinda told them, but they know not to spill the beans."

"I'm gonna smile at you, so I don't chuck this can at your head." She let out a fake giggle for Izzy's benefit, showing me the can of tuna fish.

Our daughter laughed along, even if she had no idea.

"Yeah," I sighed. "I'm sorry. They won't tell anyone." I looked to Izzy. "They know."

"That's not the point. _We_ made a decision. Then, _you_—and without _me_." She pointed to herself.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"No, you're not. You're not even sorry," she laughed at me.

"I am," I argued. "I didn't even tell her, if you wanna get technical. She guessed."

Jordan didn't comment.

I inched closer to tickle her side. "You gonna ignore me now?"

"Instead of fighting? Yeah, I was gonna try to."

"All right…you still gonna feed me?" I asked.

"Sure. You are the father of my children."

"'Cause that's all I am." I looked to the ceiling and laughed.

"You drive me crazy. Go see what your brother's doing," she whispered. I could tell she was holding back a shitload of aggression.

"Aww, baby. You _wanna_ fight." I poked her side.

She glared at me.

"Damn." I accepted that and left the kitchen.

Curious if Sonny and them had gone shopping yet, I walked outside. The cars were in the driveway, his garage door still open. The carport was empty, and Little Sonny rode in circles on his bike.

_It was a nice bike. _

"Hey, lemme ride it," I asked.

"You're too big, and Dad says I'm not allowed to let anyone ride it."

"I'm your uncle," I said. "I'm not gonna steal it."

My nephew was still reluctant.

"You know where I live…" I chuckled.

"That's a crap excuse." He rode around me.

"Fine. Remember that come Christmas." I left him with that thought as I entered his house.

My sister-in-law was in the kitchen with Beth.

"Your kid's rotten," I said.

Maggie jumped, holding her chest. "You scared me."

"What?" my brother laughed, joining us.

"He's a bully just like you used to be."

"No, he's not," Sonny defended. "He looks out for his moms, his brother, his sister…" He counted off his fingers. "He's a good kid."

"He's seven…and mean!" I exclaimed.

"What…? He won't let you play with his stuff again? Buy your own shit, bro." He pushed my shoulder, and he had me there. My nephews have all this cool stuff. "You wanna beer?"

"Yeah, uh, no…I gotta drive out to Walmart." I shrugged.

"Jordan didn't tell you?" Maggie wiped her counter down. "Since we both need things, Chris is just gonna give us a lift. Why drag the kids out? Taking them with us will take twice as long."

"Oh…" That was news to me, and enough ammo to get Jordan to stop ignoring me. "Jordan can just drive." I know Maggie and Kylie don't.

"No," Sonny said. "It's better they have some muscle with them."

His wife sighed. "It'd be cool if I _didn't_ have a chaperone." She raised a brow at my brother. "Jordan can drive the minivan—"

"You know better. If I'm not with you, then…It's safer." He shrugged. "All he does is drive. He doesn't talk, doesn't bitch…What's so bad about it?"

Maggie didn't answer. "You need a nap." She grabbed Beth's hand and they went for the stairs.

Sonny leaned into me. "She spoke to Jordan when we got here. It was all _her_ idea. I didn't bitch about shopping at all…But I gotta give the kiddos dinner and shit, watch them."

I widened my arms. "It's not babysitting when they're your own kids."

"I know," he defended. "Maggie's just always here…" He left his chair to stare into his freezer. "We got hamburgers, hot dogs…I can fire up the grill, and the kids can swim."

"We invited?" I asked.

He turned to me. "I just assumed you and Izzy would pop over at dinnertime." He knows me well, too.

"I'll order a pie and go up to Third for soda, snacks, and shit." I was excited by the prospect, pigging out on junk.

"We got all that shit in the pantry. My wife grocery shops," he said.

I was offended. "What's that supposed to mean? My wife and I have _real_ jobs."

"We do, too." He guzzled his longneck.

I laughed, but screaming caught my attention. Littlest Ed was running around, just content to run around.

"Knock it off!" Sonny hollered, and it got real quiet.

His eldest scoffed in the doorway. "You always gotta scream?" He went for the fridge.

"Yo, let me ride your bike." I gave my nephew a nudge.

"Aunt Jordan was calling you." He faced me. "She left your plate in the garage." Which means she's still pissed at me.

Little Sonny grabbed a juice box out of the fridge. "Where's my mother?" He had an attitude as he faced his father.

"Watch it," my brother warned.

Little Sonny had wide eyes. "I don't have an attitude."

Big Sonny surprised me since he wasn't up for a fight with his eldest. "Your mother—" he snickered "—is upstairs with Beth, putting her down for a nap." His gaze trailed over to me. "Supposedly the kids didn't sleep all that much, either. We let them play in the pool, they'll go out like lights later."

His saying that actually made me yawn. "Yeah…I'll be back." I let myself out of the house.

Chris was parked at the curb already, so I guessed the women were leaving sooner than later. Like my nephew said, my sandwich was in the garage, my plate on Sonny's large toolbox.

At this point, I didn't know what my reluctance to go home was. My initial intentions were to give Jordan time to cool off, get outta her face before we had a big fight. I fucked up; I knew it, but I also knew it'd blow over _if _we let it.

Nevertheless, I sat on my stoop and ate my sandwich. Jordan must have seen me since she met me outside while I was on my way back in. She looked good—in painted-on jeans and a fitted shirt.

"Where you goin' like that? Walmart?" I asked.

She smirked at me. "Izzy fell asleep. I left her bathing suit on the kitchen table." She looked into her purse. "Her life jacket is still over there." She gestured to Sonny's.

"You wanna put a pool in the back? One of those aboveground shits?" I asked.

My wife had wide eyes. "Maybe in a few years…Those things scare me."

I turned to trap her with my legs. "They have locks you can put on the ladder."

Jordan paid me no attention, staring behind me at our driveway. "Gio and Kylie are here."

I turned to see my sister strolling down the block with her family.

"And, yo…you just ditched me?" I asked Jordan. "You're gonna shop with those two? Now you'll be gone all day. Youse disappear."

She snorted. "You're trying to flip it, and it's not the same. Did you really, truly wanna go to Walmart?"

I didn't reply.

"'Sup peeps!" Kylie boomed. She was in spandex pants and a tight shirt, and I wondered what happened to all her maternity clothes.

"Look at you!" Jordan felt along Kylie's bump. "He's still kicking a lot?"

"Hey…" Gio slapped his hand to mine. "I heard you beat up my dad last night."

"Uh…" I paused. "It's not going to be awkward today, is it?"

Gio shook his head. "Nah." He pushed the large stroller back and forth, and I noticed Peto was asleep.

"Do they all have the same nap times?" I found it odd that every three-year-old was asleep. On weekends, or our random days off, and when Izzy is with me, I don't even hound her to take a nap. Sure, she's an asshole by dinnertime, cranky, but then she just goes to bed even earlier.

"Sort of," my sister said. "I always put Izzy and Peto down at around one-thirty. They sleep for an hour to recharge. That's it…" She trailed off. "Is Maggie ready?" Her head whipped to Jordan.

"Your brother's probably trying to stall her by now," Jordan giggled.

I couldn't help it, as I had to ask. "What are you wearin'?" I faced Kylie.

Jordan placed her hand on my sister's shoulder. "Sorry. My husband's a fashion cop lately."

I stuck my tongue out at her.

"I look good." Kylie popped her hip out.

She actually looked weird.

Like I said, she's carrying bigger this time, so her abdomen is huge but nothing else really is. Kylie's never been toothpick-skinny; however, at the moment, she had bird legs and didn't look proportioned. Her shirt was way too small, and her stomach was showing just a little, although I doubt she noticed.

"Yeah, you do." Gio slapped her ass. "Sexy."

But my sister didn't dig the compliment for whatever reason.

She frowned at her husband.

"Do you want one of my big t-shirts that'll fit you?" I asked. "Or…" I looked to my wife, knowing she has maternity clothes somewhere in our closet.

Jordan smiled at Kylie. "I think you're gorgeous. Show off that bump!"

"I am!" Kylie nodded, cheering up.

They did some silly dance together, wiggling their hips and giggling.

"Ignore it," Gio whispered.

I shut my mouth.

Jordan landed a smooch on my cheek.

"That means you still love me?" I asked.

She giggled. "I'll be back later. Don't let Izzy eat too much crap, please?"

"Yeah," I lied, since I'll be eating as much _crap_ as I can. "Be careful."

Gio and I watched them meet Maggie halfway in Sonny's driveway.

"She wants me to buy her a new maternity wardrobe," Gio whispered. "Meanwhile…geez. She's got enough clothes." He lit a cigarette and pushed the carriage so it faced away from us. "She thinks by wearin' that getup…I'll cave. I know she's screwing with me." That sounded like something my sister would do.

"You chillin' at Sonny's?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Just walked Kylie over. I'm taking the baby to my dad's. Katie's coming over with her kids. AJ'll be there…we're having dinner or something." My sister could never forgive _his_ sister, and she hardly goes over to Aro's while Katie is there.

I shook my head of the thought. I mean, Sonny doesn't even care about that shit anymore. It's water under the bridge. My brother's got his lovely wife, three kids, and he actually loves Maggie—whereas he'd brainwashed himself into thinking he'd loved Katie.

Katie got back together with her husband, and now they have a little boy. As far as I know, they're cool—live out in Queens, but they still teach wherever. I don't know. To be honest, I rarely see them, or even AJ, unless I'm at La Bella Italia. He still runs the restaurant.

Except for our immediate family, I barely see the rest of them.

Izzy sees her cousins and our family—Carlisle's kids, Aunt Alex, and all of them—a lot more often. My daughter's attached to my mother's hip during the week. The only one I see is Ant, and he's…Ant, doing what he's doing with his _fugazzi _engagement.

Little Eddie is in his last year of undergrad at NYU, and I hear law school is in his future. The twins are going to start high school this year, and they're regular kids—teenagers now. My uncle's three younger boys are purebred Italian, and I'm always making bets with Sonny, wondering which one will get involved in the "family business."

_Thank God Jordan's Swedish. _

Hanna never married that older dude with the weird name. _Fuckin' Virgil_. She married his nephew, Gary, who's her own age and half-black.

_At first, that went over as well as the Virgil thing . . . not really._

My aunt and uncle aren't real bigots—were actually _more_ upset when she was going to marry that old dude. They were quick to accept Gary, welcome him into the family. He's successful, loves my brat cousin, and he does something in Real Estate. They live in Sheepshead Bay—near Aro and Lisa. I bet they're at this dinner Gio's going to as well.

Hanna and Gary were married last year, and they're expecting their first kid real soon. I think she's in the homestretch.

_Someone's always pregnant—about to push a kid out around here. _

Carli—we talk on the phone every so often—and she's content to stay single. I don't think she's found the right guy yet—one she can tolerate, wants to keep around. Her boasting about her single life is a farce. She wants to get married and have kids. Carli just hasn't met the right dude yet.

She's actually still Daddy's little girl, works at the law firm, _Cullen & Associates_, as a researcher, a paralegal, or something. She lives in The Village, will sometimes come to NYU to have lunch with my wife and me, and she's happy.

My mother's family from upstate, New York . . . Well, besides my Uncle Emmett, Aunt Rose, and their kids, who usually make it to my parents' for Christmas, we don't see anyone else. Cousin Alice—while I know she still speaks to Mom fairly often—and her kids keep to themselves. For the past seven years, since Cousin Jasper was murdered, they don't come around.

"Have a good time. Send everyone my love," I told Gio, wearing a smirk. "_Especially_ your dad."

He chuckled. "I'll be sure to do that."

We watched our women pile into Maggie's minivan—that dude Chris behind the wheel. My sister-in-law has her own family vehicle, but she doesn't even drive. Kylie doesn't have a license either.

Their whole lives are here, in Bay Ridge, but that doesn't bother them.

Walmart is a hike and a half, as it's closer to Long Island. Driving there is obviously a must.

"I'll see you later." Gio took off with the stroller, and I waved at his retreating form.

I walked inside to lock the door.

* * *

**Thank you for reading. **

**Please leave me your thoughts. **


	6. Damion Chapter 6

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

**Long one :-)**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

**"Life's Little Moments"**

**Chapter Six**

**_Damion POV_**

_**I**_zzy was knocked out on the couch, and she didn't stir when I lifted her.

A nap actually sounded like a great idea, and my daughter is the best snuggler in the world. She smelled good, too, like that baby soap, which meant Jordan probably gave her a quick bath before changing her clothes. Hell, I don't know what the big deal is—why Jordan cares if our daughter is unkempt or not. She'll also be taking a dip in Sonny's pool later, which is like a bath.

_Where does Izzy go?_

I'm so not a lazy parent, nor is our kid neglected in any way. I'm just logical, I guess. My kid could wear pajamas 24/7, as she has no need for other clothes. It's not like she has a job.

I actually like the outfits she comes up with when she dresses herself.

Last week, Jordan had a few early cases, which meant I had to do the morning thing with Izzy—push my own schedule back a bit, when I'm usually gone before she wakes up. I didn't mind. Izzy wakes up with the birds. There was no problem waking her, we brushed her teeth, and I threw her hair up into a ponytail. My mother gives her breakfast; we didn't have to do that.

When it came time to get dressed, I left her to it, needing to shower and get ready myself.

She tucked her blue nightgown into a pair of green shorts and put her polka dot rain boots on. And to complete the ensemble, she hijacked one of Jordan's purses to put her stuff in . . . like Mommy does.

In her bag, Izzy had an old pair of Fisher Price keys, my old iPhone—where she'll play her games since it still works, the apps anyway—an apple for Na-Na, a cereal bar she said she'd share with Pop-Pop, and an orange for everyone to share.

My parents thought she looked adorable, and Izzy took off her shorts to run around in her nightgown as soon as we got there anyway.

Our kid's healthy and happy. She's almost too smart for her age, and she's fucking adorable—beautiful.

Life is amazing…and she never stinks.

When I dozed off, I came to the conclusion that Jordan was being too hard on herself—like always.

* * *

"Daddy's pwetty now." Izzy was in my face, as I felt her hot breath on my cheek.

I grunted a greeting, wondering how long I'd been asleep. "Did you just wake up?"

She stood on the couch to lean her ass against my shoulder. "I did pee-pees by myself." She jumped up and down on the cushions. "I putted milky in my ter-moose." She pointed to her thermos.

"Nice," I commented and wondered who forgot to lock the fridge.

I knew it was Jordan, but I was supposed to be watching her . . .

_There's probably milk all over the kitchen floor. _

"I made eggies—boogie eggs, like Na-Na," she sang, wiggling her butt. My sister was right. Izzy napped to recharge, and she was full of energy now.

"Eggs?" I laughed, slightly alarmed, and I'd steadied Izzy to gain her attention. "Did you eat them? Any of them?"

"No. They for you. For my daddy! My daddy!" She ran to the other end of the sofa and came back to slam into me. "Daddy!" I was fully awake now. "I fixed'ed your hair." Izzy got to her feet again to rub my cheek. "Pwetty." She hugged my neck, which made me smile wide.

I reached up, feeling all the different clips and small ponytails she'd put in my hair.

"You pwetty now." She nodded, matter-of-factly. "I fixed'ed you."

I continued to smile. "Thanks." I stood from the couch to stretch and look in the mirror. I wore a red, feathered boa, too.

It came with some Christmas lingerie I'd gotten Jordan last year. My wife rocked that naughty outfit, but Izzy found the boa, and she wears it when she plays Princess. One time, she put it on my father when he knocked out on his couch. Dad didn't notice he wore a tiara, too, until everyone just kept laughing. It was hilarious. Mom has pictures.

As soon as I touched my hair again, to take the clips out, Izzy jumped at me. "No! You look nice. Don't take'a out!"

Since I was more concerned with the kitchen, I left my hair alone.

There was milk and the jug on the floor, the fridge door was still open, and there was a bowl with raw eggs smashed to all hell. But it wasn't that much of a mess. I made quick work of cleaning the kitchen, washing the dishes that didn't fit in the dishwasher, and then I turned on the dishwasher.

While I was at it, I wiped the countertops and table down.

When my daughter joined me again, she had her sandals on.

"You know you're supposed to ask—not play in the refrigerator," I said. "If you're thirsty or hungry, you ask. You should have woken Daddy up when you got up—you know that, too." I poked her nose. "You know better, Monkey."

She didn't care about what I said and showed me her bathing suit. "I wanna play wiff Beff."

"Izzy…" I sighed.

"We can go now?"

It was close to four p.m. already, and I felt guilty. Izzy must have let me sleep, ran around alone for however long.

We wouldn't be talking to Jordan about the eggs she'd made me, or . . . anything.

"All right." I bent low to fasten the straps on her sandals. "Next time, you wake me up. You don't play in the fridge, or else you'll get a timeout. I'm serious…If Mommy knew, she'd be upset. She'll probably punish you—" I felt like crap for saying that last bit, the last bit that'll ensure she doesn't tell Jordan "—because _you do_ know better."

"Okay, Daddy." She nodded. "I sorry."

"Gimme kiss."

She smiled, landing one on me, and I stood up to fix my hair.

"No!" Izzy protested. "I did it—make'a you pwetty."

_That pout'll be the death of me_, I thought.

I knew I looked like an idiot as we left the house. I'd left my hair alone, and I knew others would laugh, but my daughter was proud. She was over the moon, proud of what she'd done to my hair.

We didn't leave out the front.

Once in the backyard, I heard my brother's kids screaming and horsing around. Sonny had hip-hop music playing, and smoke wafted from the BBQ as he flipped burgers and shit.

Izzy made herself at home, ran right over to the potato chips on the table. She stole the whole bowl and then joined Beth by the shallow end of the pool.

"Come here." I grabbed her life jacket from the hook.

My daughter also had no shame and stripped down to change into her bathing suit right there. It was only my brother and his kids, so it wasn't a big deal. Trust; I hate that she saw what she did last night, but she's a baby. She has nothing to show.

Izzy gave me a hard time about wearing the life jacket, but I didn't care.

"I'm not in da pool yet," she whined, wiggling.

"You're wearing it. Don't fight me." I snapped it into place.

She pouted, going back over to the chips and Beth, quick to stuff her face.

"Love what you've done with your hair." Sonny handed me a beer.

I threw the boa around my neck. "Bitch, I'm fabulous."

Sonny laughed his ass off. "Beth got me with Maggie's makeup one day…only I didn't notice and no one told me." He shook his head. "Carlisle came by to talk to me, and he was all…about to piss himself, laughing so hard. I couldn't believe Maggie let me answer the door like that." He laughed at the memory.

"I remember that." I chuckled.

"How many burgers you want?" he asked.

"Two…Izzy will take a hot dog." I bet she won't even eat it. "I forgot my shorts."

"Whoa!" Sonny stopped me. "You're coming back, right?"

My eyes widened. "Yes…I'll be back in five minutes. Less than that."

My brother seemed relieved, and I'm a piece-of-shit.

A few months ago, Mom and Kylie happened to be busy, doing something with Maggie. Sonny had his kids for the afternoon, and I was working the night shift that week. Jordan wasn't home from work yet.

I pretended like I was coming over to chill, but then I left.

I'd instructed Izzy to tell my brother that I had to go to work_ after_ I was gone.

It's not like he'd kick his niece out, and I was desperate.

Besides, his boys occupy each other, and then Beth gets clingy when Maggie's not around. But our daughters are one in the same.

As soon as they're around each other, Daddy's old news.

After changing into my board shorts, I took all that crap out of my hair. Now it stuck out all over even worse, but I didn't give a fuck.

"Get him!" Little Sonny hollered as soon as I'd entered the yard.

Then I had my other nephew pushing against my ass before my brother grabbed my forearm to fling me into the pool. It happened within seconds, and I was able to grab my glasses in time.

But it made Izzy cry. She thought they were trying to hurt me.

"I'm okay," I laughed, swimming to the other side of the pool. "You wanna swim with Daddy?"

Izzy sniffled, her belly trembling. "Okay . . ."

I placed my arms around her, and she winced from the cold. "You all right?" I dunked us a bit, so she'd get wet.

She reached to rub my cheek. "I wanna get out."

I rolled my eyes; she was in the pool all of five seconds. "There you go." I lifted her out.

Izzy stood up, picking her wedgie. "You mean…mean!" She turned to wave a finger at my nephews and Sonny, but she couldn't think up an insult, and I couldn't believe she was still upset about that.

"Butted-heads!" Beth shouted.

"Yeah!" Izzy agreed.

"It was a joke," I said, chuckling.

"No hurt my daddy!" Izzy _was_ upset.

Sonny showed her his palms. "You got it, Miss Izzy." He walked to her and got on his knees. "You're mad at Uncle Sonny now?"

The side of Izzy's mouth pulled up, but she nodded.

"Come on…" He tickled her sides until she started cracking up. Then he got Beth. Sonny, the tickle monster, was gonna make them pee their pants. And I loved the giggling. They're so cute.

When my daughter took a seat, started eating her chips again, I lifted myself up, slightly out of the pool to rest my forehead to hers. "We'll get 'em back after we eat." By then we'll be going home, and there won't be any animosity.

"'K." She twirled my chain around her fingers before she tried to lift it off of me. If I didn't think she'd break it, I'd let her wear it, but I smoothed it down onto my chest.

The girls weren't interested in swimming at all, but they did go in the pool for about ten minutes. That was because Sonny said they couldn't swim after dinner. The girls _had to_ swim for a bit, hearing that.

While I did a few laps and then horsed around with my nephews, Sonny set Izzy and Beth up with crayons and books at the table. The boys kept running in and out, jumping off of the diving board, screaming…

These kids are always screaming if they're not running. Hell, most times they do both simultaneously.

When dinner was ready, I cut Izzy's hot dog into small pieces, and then she informed me she eats it like a big guy now—like Pop-Pop. No matter, I ate that one after plopping another one into a bun for her.

Beth would only eat off of Sonny's plate, ignoring her own, and my nephews didn't need instruction as far as food goes—old enough to just grab what they wanted.

Halfway through, my mother showed up. She made herself at home, too—got busy real fast, grabbing whatever Sonny had forgotten to put on the table, putting ketchup and mustard on plates. I think she's nuts and/or a little lonely, but Na-Na always has to be in charge.

Izzy forgot about her food and clung to her, but Mom didn't care.

"Where's Dad?" I asked when she finally sat down with Izzy.

She glanced at Sonny. "Something came up. He had to head into Manhattan."

My brother nodded, wiping at his mouth with a napkin. "You're cool if I get ready to go? Mags should be home…I dunno when, um, but I'll only be two hours. I'll probably be back before her."

"You're leaving?" I asked.

"Yeah," Sonny confirmed.

"No!" Beth latched on to her father.

"Aww, Angelface," he crooned. "Daddy'll be right back, and you can play with Izzy. Plus, tomorrow we're going to Six Flags. Then, Monday, we're going to the beach. You'll get sick of me."

"No," Beth disagreed, resting her head to his chest.

Sonny placed his lips to her hair and rocked her, and he really didn't look like he wanted to leave. Sure, he's not _stuck_ with all three of them—has to "babysit" that often—but they're his kids. He wants to be with them just as much as I yearn to chill out with Izzy. "I'll be home all week, too."

"Oh…" Beth was still crying.

"I'm on vacation…and you're starting school."

"I don't wanna go to school. I wanna stay with Mommy," she replied.

"Bethany, we talked about that," Mom told her. "You have to go to school."

"Yeah, 'cause you don't wanna be stupid." Little Sonny nodded, and that seemed to placate his sister. He's a big shot, heading into the second grade this year.

Littlest Eddie will be going into first grade. They both go to Saint Anselm, where we'd gone to school. When it's Izzy's turn for elementary school, Jordan's actually more into her going to public school. Bay Ridge has great schools or whatever. I know she'll relent, not because we're so religious, but because she won't want to separate Izzy from Beth. We'd never hear the end of it.

_Eh…we have 'til next year to worry about it, when she starts Pre-K. _

Plus, even if it's not important to us, and despite being married to Sonny, Maggie is still very catholic. I know she will insist Beth go to Saint Anselm.

Izzy going to catholic school will kill two birds with one stone, though. If she goes to P.S 185, we'll have to arrange for her to go to CCD during the week, so she can make her communion on time.

Little Sonny will be doing that this coming spring, and I bet my father throws a huge party.

Mom and Sonny talked while I looked down to my nephew. Littlest Ed was sitting next to me, playing with his food, and I was curious—as to how much religion is enmeshed in their studies. It's been a while since I was in elementary school. I can't remember. "Who's God?" I asked him.

"Um…" He stared up. "He's like…this guy…in the sky." He shoved a Dorito into his mouth. "He's Jesus' dad," he ended with a mouthful.

"Sounds legit." I ruffled his hair.

"He created the world," Little Sonny interjected. "Mom says when people die, most go to God…in Heaven, or they go to the devil, to Hell, to burn for_ all_ eternity." He widened his arms.

I furrowed my brow, my gaze flashing to my brother, wondering what the fuck they're teaching these kids.

"I don't wanna burn, Sonny. I don't wanna die!" Littlest Ed was panicking.

"You're not dying." I shook him.

"You only go to Hell if you're bad," Little Sonny laughed. "Like, _real_ _bad_—real, real bad. _Really_ bad."

"I think he gets it," I said.

"What's die?" Izzy asked Na-Na.

_Crap_, I thought.

First she sees a penis and now she wants to know what death is? How does one go about explaining that? I hate lying to my daughter the most, even if she's a peanut, and may not understand everything.

"Like…when Daddy squashes a spider and it stops moving," my mother said.

"What?" I asked, thinking that a shitty explanation.

"Oh…" Izzy nodded.

Even if she didn't get it, I knew my daughter was going to pretend she did.

_She's my kid. _

None of the kids, my family's youngest generation, have experienced death just yet.

Well, Little Sonny and Littlest Ed have. Beth was about a year old, when Maggie's dog, Noah, suddenly got cancer, and they had to put him down. He was young, too. It was a tragedy. I loved that little dude. The cancer spread through his teeny body, and there wasn't much they could do.

Of course, I hope they will never experience death, but it's inevitable. My grandfather's on his way out—well, _whenever_ he dies. His old ass isn't sick or dying, but he's real old—in his early eighties. It's just a matter of time.

Edward Senior—Big, Big Ed—doesn't travel back and forth to the UK anymore. Lizzie and her family come to New York for Christmas every year. He got remarried—to a much younger woman—about nine months ago. But he and his wife pretty much keep to themselves. He also confided in me, says he's leaving his fortune to Lizzie and Kylie, although that's not a secret. My father and Carlisle have enough money, and Kylie was always his favorite. Carlisle already owns the law firm, my father a silent partner. And, apparently, his gold-digging wife is getting nothing.

_He's not stupid and swears Lucille married him for his money. _

Who knows…?

They're around for big family events, or whenever he decides to visit. They live in the suburbs upstate, and _my_ pop-pop is happy.

"She's three. How much do you think she'll understand?" Mom whispered but Izzy still heard her.

"I _capisce_," she said, playing with my mother's earring.

"Here…sit with Sonny." My brother brought Beth over to Little Sonny, which placated her again. You'd think she'd latch on to my mother, or that her brother would ignore her, but Little Sonny sat with his sister on his lap and continued eating.

It was really sweet, but it was also sad to me—reminded me of how my brother used to step up to the plate, care for us when he had to.

"I'm gonna get you something great for Christmas," I told him.

"Okay." He was nonchalant. "And you can use my bike, too. But Dad's is bigger. It's in the basement."

"I'll remember that." I'll be buying my own bicycle soon. We live right by Shore Road, and I'm always aching to ride on the path. Izzy has her own American Flyer tricycle with the bar in the back for a passenger. It's pink and has streamers, but I wanted a bike with a big basket, or a seat in the back for my kid. That'd be awesome.

Little Sonny looked to my mother. "Can I be finished?" He showed her his plate.

"Yes, put it in the garbage, but you're not going in the pool yet."

"Okay." He grabbed Beth's hand and they went inside.

"Me, too?" Littlest Ed never even touched his hamburger.

"Take two bites and then—"

"Na-Na, please!" he whined.

"No…it's two bites." She looked down to Izzy. "Did you want macaroni?"

"No," I laughed. "She's fine." I knew Izzy would say yes just so she'd make it, but she won't eat it. "Don't talk back to Na-Na," I told my nephew.

"You're not my daddy."

I was taken aback. "But your dad gave me permission to tell you what to do." _Suddenly, I sent a silent prayer up to God that we'd have another girl._ "Eat your food."

"Poop!" He was mad at me.

"Tough," I said.

Mom giggled. "How's Jordan feeling?"

"Mommy's happy," Izzy answered. "She told'ed me. She went with my aunties to get stuff for me."

"She did?" Mom asked. "That's really cool."

Izzy agreed. "I want a sway-lore dress like Beff for first day. Aunt Maggie is gonna take her to get it."

"A what?" I asked.

"Sailor dress," Mom informed me. "Does she feel s-i-c-k at all or anything?" She spelled it out.

I shook my head. "I had no idea she…was until she told me. Nothing out of the ordinary, but it is early. Seven weeks."

"Okay. I'm done!" my nephew announced with a mouthful.

I told him he could go, but I swiped the rest of his burger, starving since I'd swum so much.

Mom started to braid Izzy's messy hair. "So exciting." Her face lit up. "And I'm pretty sure, after talking to your sister last night, she pushed to have another one because Peto was starting school, and she didn't wanna get a job." She rolled her eyes. "Gio's not as old-school as the rest of the males in this family...I don't think." She rambled. "She can work…I'll be having her opening the salon while Peto's in school for some extra cash...until the baby gets here. There's nothing wrong with her wanting to stay home and raise her kids, but…"

"Those two aren't exactly rolling in dough," I finished for her. I'm glad that my brother-in-law will suggest Kylie get a job than do any extra crap for the family business. It'd be so easy for him, too. Gio's a hard worker, honest, and he likes to stand on his own—take care of his family without outside help. He does what he does otherwise, but he tries to keep his hands clean.

"She was fine, watching Izzy the first few months. Then…I helped her, when Peto was born—" she tickled Izzy "—she almost drove herself nuts, trying to keep up with the two of them as infants. All because she wanted you to pay her."

I nodded, already knowing that—during that first year—my mother mainly took care of Izzy. "I don't think we'll need her to take…this new one," I mumbled the end of my sentence, hoping Izzy wouldn't hear. "Jordan's thinking about…" I trailed off, and Mom caught my drift.

"Really? Oh, I'm happy to hear that." She gave Izzy a bunch of kisses and put her down.

"Where you goin'?" I asked her since she went for the back door.

Izzy walked over, trying to take her life jacket off. "I gotta do pee-pee and find Beff."

"Okay." I helped her out.

"Pull your bathing suit down before you sit on the toilet," Mom said.

"Okay, Na-Na!" Izzy ran into the house.

Mom waved a hand. "She'll pee right through it otherwise," she laughed.

I smiled. "I love how in-tune you are with her—how you know what she's thinking, or what she'll do before she does it." I'm pretty good with that, too, and so is Jordan.

Her eyes widened in mock surprise. "I've been a mom for a long time, and a Na-Na for a while. It gets easier . . . Are you hoping for a boy this time?"

I chuckled. "Actually…You know it doesn't make a difference, but not really. Little boys can be rotten, and he'll probably make Izzy miserable."

"That's what siblings do." She reached to squeeze my hand, taking a wary glance around. "Can you tell me what really happened last night? I heard you went to Midnight Sun, and I saw Maggie's neck." Her lips drew a tight line. "I could throttle your brother sometimes."

I pursed my lips, wondering how I could tell her, so she'll understand and not think her eldest child a monster. "She…was tired, and someone suggested she…try some coke."

"Oh, God." Mom palmed her face. "There's nothing wrong with it—trying it…She's young, and she never really partied. Well, I know she doesn't have any drug problems, but after struggling along with Sonny?"

My brother did relapse a few years ago—went on a bender and then had to detox. It actually wasn't as big of a deal as the first time. He had his head to an extent. But staying away from that shit completely has been an uphill battle, a huge temptation for my brother.

However, I know my mother doesn't know about his relapse—only Maggie and I do.

"I bet that scared the fuck outta him, but…for him to flip out the way he did?" She stared at me, expectant. "Maggie refuses to tell me, and that girl usually tells me everything. She tried to tell me she fell, in regards to the handprints on her fuckin' neck." Mom shook her head. "Your father won't say jack about it—says he 'handled it,' but I know he had to head to Eclipse today because of…something."

I furrowed my brow. "She got the coke from this guy…Sonny was…you know how he's pulled in ten different directions when he's in a social setting."

"I know," she sighed.

"Maggie was talkin' to this dealer dude. Sonny thought…she was really _talking_ to him, too." I shrugged. "Maggie told me she outright bought the yak, but Sonny—his dumb ass—accused her of doing something else for it. I'm 90% sure that's the story—that's what made him nuts. I'd never seen that one dude before. I don't know who he was," I caught my word choice, "when Sonny pointed him out to me."

"Pointed him out?" Mom giggled. "Right. I've also been in the game a while, and I know…what Sonny would do. And I only know that much about Sonny because of how much I know about your father." Now she was grumbling. "Sonny. Sonny. Sonny . . . He really thought she was flirting, too?"

I didn't wanna talk more about it.

"Maggie must have been terrified…for Sonny to be like that." She cupped her own neck, staring into space.

"You okay?" I whispered.

She snapped out of it. "Sometimes…love, loving a person _too much_—it can make someone do crazy things. _I_ get it."

I raised a brow, waiting for her to share.

Mom ignored me—my inquisitive face—and started to clear the table.

Before she disappeared into the house, she stopped to turn to me, her hands and arms filled with crap. "Under any other circumstance, I wouldn't mind watching Izzy, too. You know that. But…just because you were there last night, you're not riding along today."

I widened my arms. "I don't even know what they're up to." And I really did not want to be more involved. I wish my mother could believe that.

"All right." She walked toward the kitchen. "Fair enough."

I rolled my eyes, grabbing some condiments to help her out.

After placing all that stuff in the fridge, I looked for Izzy. She was in Sonny's bedroom with Beth, pretending to read a book on their bed while my brother buttoned his shirt.

"What's up?" I leaned on the doorframe.

Sonny shrugged, fastening his cuffs.

I faced the girls. "Go ask Little Sonny to read it for you guys."

They liked that idea and scooted from the bed.

"Ask Eddie," my brother said. "He can use the practice."

I nodded. "So, what's up with…?"

Sonny peered around the doorway to make sure the girls were gone. "That guy…he was someone important to some people." He still didn't seem to care. "I used to supply those motherfuckers and put them on to who's supplying them now. They owe _me_—" he pointed to himself "—should eat this beef. I'll tell them to put a price on his fuckin' head, or get the fuck over it," he laughed.

"The alternative?" I asked.

"There isn't one. Fuck 'em. I mean, I don't even have to go. I wanna 'cause Dad…I want to keep the peace. I don't mind shelling out a few hundred grand, or a favor, to keep shit calm. Dad wants to tell them to fuck off."

I hummed, taking a seat on his bed.

"You wanna come? Have a couple drinks at Eclipse? It's really no big thing."

"No…" But now I was curious. "Tell me how it goes—call me if anything. Izzy has a new movie she's been watching over and over—an old DVD, cartoon movie. I'll grab it, so we can all watch it here."

"Sounds like fun." He stepped into his shoes and sat down to tie his laces. "Thanks…for last night." He nodded. "There was no hiding what happened." He laughed to himself.

"What do you mean?" Worried, I stared at him.

He got to his feet again. "I didn't exactly—have absolute discretion. No one saw me pop him except Maggie, but Dad knew...about me losing it. I'm sure Mom knows, too."

Sonny pinched the bridge of his nose. "My perfect little baby—my Maggie, and she put that shit in her body." He balled his hands into fists. "God forbid…Dame, that'd kill me. That'd be like ripping my heart out my chest…if she started using, or…I'll admit she could use more friends, other people besides the kids and Kylie, that it might get boring."

He finally swallowed his pride, about to admit the truth. "I was scared. Fuckin' petrified. First she wants to come out, which came outta nowhere." He widened his arms. "I wasn't even plannin' on chillin' last night. I just had to show my face, only planned to be there for ten minutes. But I sympathized—thought she could use a night out. Then she's dancing with Vinny and whoever, when she _never_ dances—ever. She was talking to that asshole, snorted a line, and she got all lively—dancing even more. That dude, Jose, the dealer? That motherfucker was her biggest fan. He was like a dog, following her around the club, and he knew she was my wife…Bottom line, I thought I was losing her." He cleared his throat.

"Maggie?" I smiled, reaching to massage his shoulder. "Never. She was just trying to fit in. And…our cousin can't or won't fuck Vinny, and he encourages her to party." I knew the deal with my cousin. "His girl is young, stupid, was probably encouraging Mags to party, too."

"Who do you think divvied up the lines?" he asked, speaking with his hands.

"I—"

"I let it go last night. Bigger fish to fry and all that—" he cut me off "—but after we talk to these motherfuckers, Dad, Carlisle, Ant, and me…we're gonna sit down. I'm actually having Aro broker it, so it's fair. Dad'll be biased to my point, and Unc'll be having Ant's back."

"Ant or Vinny?" I asked. "Who divvied the lines?"

"Fuckin' Anthony!" he exclaimed. "We're also fuckin' out there. He has my back on the daily . . . Dame, if I can't trust him, he can't have my back. It's as simple as that. I won't break him—demote him, or hurt him. He'll stay who is, but he'll be farther away from me."

"Yeah, but…Ant probably just wanted to help Maggie live a little." I knew, regardless of how much he's changed, my cousin wasn't being malicious.

"I know that…Fuck, I wish I could make Peto." He was quiet for a minute. "Things have changed. We break a lot of rules. That bitch Lau was French or something. But Peto looks Italian. Aro's lineage goes back a million years, and who really knows what ethnicity he is?"

"Would he even want that? And, would you go against the grain like that?" I wasn't sure if that was a rule that could be as easily bent.

"Peto's loyal, and, these days…maybe not at first, but he's coming into his own, has a brass pair." He pushed his hair back, staring into the mirror. "I should have shaved—fuck it." Sonny placed his nine in his waist, and then another in his ankle holster before checking to make sure he had his pocketknife.

"You goin' to war or something?" I chuckled.

Sonny ignored that. "He could make himself a lot of money. Peto and Kylie would be set for life after about a year…_if_ I could do what I'd like to."

I didn't know everything about the inner workings of the family. But making Peto, when he's not 100% Italian, didn't seem right. Like it'd be disloyal and disrespectful to…the mafia itself.

"It'll never happen." He shrugged. "I could never do that. Dad said if circumstances were different, he woulda definitely given Peto a button, or offered. But there are things Dad would never change, and he made me swear not to. Apparently, I can do what I want after he's dead." Sonny chuckled. "Even in death, I wouldn't betray the old man."

"Don't talk about that." It made my stomach knot up.

Sonny palmed my cheek. "I know who you are now. Last night when I was running my mouth…You're Dame. We've had our Dame back for quite a while. Don't change."

I grinned. "I'm happy…I don't know what else to say. I didn't make the conscious effort to change, to be a different person."

"Oh…" He went into his top drawer. "Before I forget." He slapped an envelope into my hand. "For the baby."

I threw my head back to laugh. "She's only seven weeks."

"Kylie and Peto'll be the godparents?"

"You and Maggie wanna claim all my kids?" I asked.

He rolled his eyes. "Did I ever tell you that Dad had asked me if he could claim Beth on his tax return last year?"

"He pays taxes?" I was kidding. "What would he do with the extra chump change?" To me, it's _not_ pennies. I was surprised as fuck when I found out how much Jordan and I were gonna get back—after having a kid.

"He's just always gotta scheme—cheat the government." Sonny wasn't lying.

Last year, there was a bad storm, a hurricane, which made a tree fall in my parents' backyard. It landed on the shed, smashing it to pieces, along with destroying the lounge chairs and table inside. I don't know what else was in it. Maybe pool supplies and whatnot. Before the insurance company could come out to assess the damage, Dad drove around the neighborhood. He picked expensive-looking garbage to pretend it was in the shed—random items, and he also ransacked Sonny's garage for shit. Dad found old, broken lawnmowers and snowblowers, beat everything to hell.

Needless to say, he conned an extra three grand from his insurance company, and Mom said it wasn't the first time.

_Eh, the old man likes to keep busy, too. _

Sonny looked out the window. "Carlisle's here. I gotta go."

"All right." I slapped my hand to his. "Be careful."

"It's no big thing. No worries." He walked out of his bedroom, and I followed. "I actually wanna try and be back before the girls get home." He showed me his crossed fingers.

"Maggie doesn't know?"

He groaned, palming his forehead. "She doesn't…but she'll understand. The alternative is a conflict and then sending her away with the kids. There were a few of these people at the club last night. They didn't see what I did, but they might have seen her—know who she is and why homeboy bit it. Although, to them, he just disappeared. I'm not worried about a thing, but it has to be settled today. Dad's already there. Here's hoping." He patted my back.

Then he waved to the boys before he left the house.

Upon hearing the door close, Beth came running out. "My daddy left?" Her lip quivered.

"Hey…" I bent low to dry her tears. "He'll be right back—"

Before I'd even gotten the words out, Sonny was walking back inside. "Gimme kiss, Angelface."

Beth jumped to latch on.

"Daddy's sorry. I forgot to say goodbye." He gave her loud smooches. "I'll be right back." He gave her to me, but she wasn't crying anymore.

"You good?" I asked her.

"Yeah, where's Izzy?" She looked around.

I thought Beth would know, or should know. They're always together. "Probably in your room." And it sucked that my heart hammered away suddenly. It beat faster and faster until I saw my own daughter elbow-deep in her cousin's toy chest.

"No!" Beth was upset. "We can't take dem all out." She started throwing things back in while Izzy continued to empty it. It was hilarious, and I watched them for a minute. Beth finally caught on to what her cousin continued to do. "I mean it." She snatched a toy away.

"I wanna sit in it." Izzy climbed into the trunk. "Take your stuff out."

"We can't make'a'mess." Beth huffed.

Unlike my niece's previously meticulous bedroom, Izzy's room has toys everywhere. It's not dirty, but why waste time putting the toys away when she's just gonna take them back out? It's not that I'm a lazy parent. My free time is limited, same with Jordan's, and we don't harp on bullshit. We're logical and relaxed to a certain degree as parents.

"Beff!" Izzy screamed, refusing to leave, and I tried to think of what was so cool about chillin' in a toy chest. I also didn't want to interfere, curious as to how they'd settle the conflict themselves. "No!"

Beth threw a Barbie at her.

Izzy threw a toy back.

Beth chucked a handful of Legos at her. "Stop!"

I jumped when Mom poked my side. "You still want two little girls?" she asked.

My face broke into a huge smile. "Whatever we have…"

"Na-Na!" Beth's voice reached an octave our neighbors probably heard.

"Christ!" Mom blanched. "Youse can do whatever you want with the toys. Just as long as Izzy helps you put them back before she leaves."

"Get out!" Beth tried to lift the toy chest. "I wanna put dem back."

My daughter held on to the sides. "No! I don't wanna! Le-me lone!"

"Hey!" I spoke up. "Let's go get your PJs, your DVD, and Na-Na will fix ice cream for us." I smiled at my mother, and she nodded.

Izzy thought about it, but she wasn't fast enough.

"Out!" Beth was still trying to tip it over so her cousin would spill out.

"What DVD?" Littlest Ed had joined us.

"I gots'a Despic-et'able Me 2!" Izzy shouted. "Beff, stop!"

"That's old," Little Ed said.

I shrugged. "It's new to them." I pointed to the girls.

"Okay," Ed agreed.

My niece's face was red; her cousin really pushed her buttons. "Oooh!" She grabbed a toy tightly and shook it at Izzy. "You make'a me mad!" She sounded like my mother did last night.

Izzy pouted. "I jus wanna sit…I sorry. I gets Despic-et'ables." She finally climbed out.

"First, you're going to help Beth clean up this mess," my mother said.

"All right, Na-Na…" She didn't want to do it, slumping her shoulders.

"Go get the movie and her PJs," Mom instructed.

I sighed, knowing I needed to change out of my board shorts, too.

After grabbing Izzy's dirty clothes from the side of the pool, I walked into my own yard. On my way, I saw Little Sonny drawing on the driveway with chalk. He's an artist, like Dad and I used to be. We both got it from my father.

Maybe years have changed, and my brother's reign is actually more peaceful than my father's ever was—but threats are still real and out there.

The street we live on is quiet, a suburb within Brooklyn, but Little Sonny, his siblings, and Izzy can't play out on the sidewalk.

_Like how the poor kid was going in circles on his bike in the garage earlier._

This summer, and since my brother has off hours, Sonny would chill outside so the kids could play. Or, they'd go over to my parents' house. They have a larger backyard.

"You can always play in our yard, too," I offered, giving the fence that divides our houses a pull. And I wondered if Jordan would care if I took it down. I'd only remove the portion that separated our homes. Our backyards are private, totally closed off from Sonny's garage and my driveway, as I don't have a garage.

Plus, the end result of having all that room…? We could get a fucking bouncy house and a swing set. That'd be awesome, and all so the kids could be outside more often.

I remember drawing for hours, watching endless cartoons and movies, playing way too many video games, being on the computer . . . all because we couldn't simply go outside to play.

Things had changed when we moved to Bay Ridge. When we lived in Mill Basin, we used to ride our bikes and chill out on the sidewalk all the time. And we were young, really young back then. Well, that was partially due to the fact that my father was locked up during that time. He wasn't a target, and he wasn't around. We wouldn't have gotten hurt if someone went for him.

"Oh…I think my baseball is in your yard," he replied. "Ed threw it, and I dunno where it went."

"You can look for it." I opened my gate.

But he followed me into the house instead.

"Wow. It's really messy."

I turned to him. "What?"

He covered his mouth. "I'm sorry."

I rolled my eyes, looking to all of Izzy's toys, because Na-Na buys her baby too much crap. Whenever my mother goes to a store with Izzy…it's gimme, gimme, gimme, and she doesn't say no.

During the week, Izzy's her little shadow. Mom will never admit it, and I could never see her picking one, but her namesake might just be her favorite. "Grab _Despicable Me 2_. It's in the DVD player."

"I've seen that already," he said.

"I loved it when I was younger…" I trailed off.

Then, I was quick to take a piss, put some clothes on, and grab Izzy her pajamas.

"Shit…" I searched all her drawers, seeing most empty but her hamper overflowing. The PJs she wore last night were filthy. They were brand new, but she chilled in the yard all night. I wondered if I could sneak and grab a nightgown or something from Beth's dresser. But that'd just be all kinds of wrong—stealing from a toddler.

Before I went downstairs, I grabbed a pair of Izzy's undies and one of Jordan's t-shirts—the smallest one I could find. I also took Izzy's hamper with me into the kitchen and emptied it into the washer. After setting it, I looked to my nephew to see if he was ready go.

Imagine my surprise when I saw him straightening up, bunching Izzy's toys into a pile.

"What are you doing?" I laughed.

He shrugged. "I didn't want Izzy in trouble."

I shook my head, remembering how Beth freaked. "You get in trouble for leaving your toys around?"

"No…My mommy always puts them away, but Dad tells us Mommy's not our maid. We gotta clean up after ourselves," he explained.

"Fair enough," I said. "We let her slide 'cause she's little."

While we walked back to Sonny's, I put my arm around him. "You're a good kid." I felt badly for judging him earlier. Sonny knows his kid, recognizes how helpful he is. But all I usually see is the maniac running around and playing. He's just a child, like the rest of them. "Your dad used to help Na-Na a lot when we were little. I'm glad you help your mom, too."

"Not really," he said, honest. "I help Dad—he needs it." Sonny ran away from me, and then tried reaching under the grill. "I found my ball…"

I chuckled, going into the house.

My mother was setting up one of their larger dens with the bigger TV. She put blankets on the couch and one of the floor while Beth and Izzy ate popcorn, sharing a recliner. Littlest Eddie was surfing through the channels.

"Hey…" I put my hand out for Izzy's. Like we had earlier, I changed her, placing the shirt over her head, and then peeling her bathing suit down. "This is Mommy's shirt," I answered, after she'd asked.

"I like it." She held my shoulders and lifted her leg to step into her panties.

I pulled them up and leaned to bite that nose.

"Daddy!" She got upset and tried to push me away. "My nose, Na-Na!" 'Cause Grandma will rescue her.

I laughed my ass off, letting her go. "You're such a baby—tattling on me."

Izzy crawled back onto the chair with Beth. "Did'ja get Disa-despic'ables Me?" She botched the title even more.

"Despicable," I said.

"Thas what I says." She shoved popcorn into her mouth.

"Yeah, I got it…" I handed Ed the DVD, looking back to the girls. "Can I sit with you guys?"

Izzy and Beth moved to each side, providing me with about five inches of space. I wiggled my butt at them and sat down, holding much of my weight off as they giggled and squealed, screamed to Na-Na that I was squashing them.

Nevertheless, I lifted Izzy, sat down with her, and pulled Beth so she sat on my other leg. They settled back with a blanket while the movie started.

Mom went to go lock up before she was to get ice cream ready.

Ten minutes into the movie, Little Sonny joined us, and he didn't look happy.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Where's my mother?" He pushed his hair back.

"Mommy went shopping," Littlest Ed replied.

"Yeah, but she's been gone a long time, and we always go with her." He pointed to himself.

"Do you want to call her?" I know from times before that whether they're with the kids or not, when those three get together there's almost no concept of time. Jordan may not be a shopper, but she loves spending time with Maggie and Kylie—her girlfriends.

"No…" He slumped back.

"Call her, Sonny," Ed encouraged. "Ask if we can stay up to watch _Aladdin_ after this."

"It's Saturday," Sonny said. "We can stay up."

"Oh…" Ed's face fell. "Can we call to say she's pretty?" Littlest Ed was reaching, wanting to talk to her.

Their conversation made me smile. It reminded of conversations I'd had with my brother when we were much younger.

"She knows—Daddy tells her." Sonny shrugged.

"Can we call, say Mommy's pwetty?" Izzy asked.

I nodded, digging my cell out of my pocket while I tried not to jostle the girls. Poor Beth was almost sleeping, nearly knocked out with her nose in my armpit. Getting mad must take a lot out of her.

Jordan picked up on the second ring. "What's up?"

"Nothin'…watching a movie with the kids—"

Izzy grabbed for the phone. "You pwetty, Mommy."

"Ooh," Jordan crooned. "Are you being good for Daddy?"

"Yeah…" Izzy leaned into me.

I took the phone back. "How's shopping?"

"I got everything. Then we hit up a few more stores, and now we're at dinner. We actually_ just_ ordered drinks, so...Is everything cool?"

"Yeah, have a good time," I said. "You still hate me?"

She giggled. "I could never hate you, Cullen." Her words made me all warm inside. "Besides…I…I slipped and told Kylie already."

I tried not to laugh too loud since Izzy was settling down, too. "I love you."

"I love you," she practically sang. "Oh, I got you more socks, and this really cool Snoopy tie that was six bucks."

"Nice. Thank you."

"I'll see you soon. Love you!" She ended the call.

I looked over to the boys. "Your mom's just fine."

"Sonny!" Na-Na hollered from somewhere, and my nephew left the room.

"She's just hanging out," I said.

"Oh…" Littlest Ed picked his nose.

"Hey." I jerked my chin, and he stopped.

Mom and Little Sonny came in with ice cream for everyone.

Before the credits rolled, I wound up eating three bowls of ice cream. Beth and Izzy were knocked out, and I didn't want it to go to waste. It was kind of early for Izzy to be sleeping, but with the lights off and relaxing, she fell out.

"You wanna put her in Beth's bed?" Mom whispered, taking my niece from me.

I thought about just taking Izzy home, but I didn't want to leave my mother alone. "Yeah, I'll follow you." I held my daughter close, going toward Beth's room.

Even though Beth stirred, with the lights off once again, she just rolled over and closed her eyes.

Izzy's a very deep sleeper. Especially when she's exhausted. She didn't move after I put her down, not even if we hadn't sung the night-night song.

I channel surfed while Mom gave Littlest Ed a bath. Sonny's old enough and insisted he take a shower, but his little brother doesn't like soap, so Na-Na had to supervise.

Instead, I told my mother I'd be right back, and all I did was put Izzy's clothes in the dryer.

During my stroll back, I saw my brother run with a quickness up his walkway, as Dad walked at a normal pace—wearing a smile.

Judging by their demeanors, I guessed everything worked out well, but Sonny just needed to beat Maggie home. I was glad his plan worked.

"Wife…" Dad grabbed Mom's ass. She was in the kitchen now, and Sonny started to undress as he ran upstairs.

I smiled, just watching all of them.

The scene reminded me of being years younger, still living at home. "How'd everything go?"

"Fine," Dad said. "Kylie ain't back from shopping yet?" Yeah, this definitely felt like a déjà vu moment. "Peto and Peto are still at Aro's."

"Edward, they're hanging out."

"Still…" Dad frowned, grabbing a cookie from the jar. "That's my kid—I worry. I'm allowed." He gestured to himself.

Mom had stars in her eyes while she stared at him. "You are."

"Where's the rest of them? It's too quiet." He looked around, his eyes landing on me. "Where's my little refugee?"

"Edward!" Mom swatted his bicep.

"She fell asleep. She's in bed with Beth." I jerked my thumb.

Sonny joined us, wearing a pair of sweats, no shirt, and he made the conscious effort to mess up his hair. "The kids were good?" He grabbed a soda from the fridge.

"Angels," Mom said, and she would have said that even if they weren't.

"Thanks," Sonny sighed, sitting at the table. "Maggie and them are grabbing a quick dinner…I don't wanna keep you guys." He probably wanted Mom and Dad out of here before his wife suspected anything. I bet Sonny tells her anyway, knowing one of the kids might slip.

Mom placed a dishrag down onto the counter. "I'm beat."

Dad pulled her forearm. "Yeah, let's go."

Mom sucked her teeth, stopping to give Sonny and me kisses. "Be good."

We waved, and Sonny followed to lock the door after them.

"Mommy…?" Little Sonny ran out soaking wet, a towel hanging over his shoulders.

"It's just me, Bud." Sonny helped to dry him.

"What's everyone walk around naked in this house?" I asked.

Sonny gave me a look. "We're comfortable. We're a family." He stared at me, like I was crazy. "Did your brother take a bath?"

Little Sonny wiped water from his nose. "Na-Na made sure he used soap. He's in his room."

"Awesome." Sonny fist pumped the air. "Did Beth take a bath?"

"No…she fell asleep." Little Sonny walked down the hall.

"Damn." He snapped his fingers. "That would have been awesome. The house is clean—kids are fed, settled down, and bathed—and she'd think I did it all before nine?" My brother entered the kitchen. "Well…I plan to tell her the truth, but for a second, just a second, she'd think I did all that," he laughed. "I love spending time with them, but we usually have fun—play and do things. It's hard actually trying to take care—do everything for the three of them. I don't know how Maggie does it most days."

"Well, even if you're home, you're still pulled in ten different directions." I know he's always on call, if I'm being technical about it.

"Eh…There's no such thing as being too good a parent. I could always try harder to help out…and I do try my best as is. Maggie knows." He seemed contemplative. "Angelface is really asleep?" he spoke of Beth. "I try to read them all a story when I'm home this early."

I shrugged, and I won't admit I felt a certain way because I couldn't sing the night-night song. "We could make a lot of noise, wake them up."

"What are you, nuts? She'll be cranky, crying 'cause Maggie's not home yet." He shook his head. "Plus, I gotta step out when she gets back and they're asleep—head over to Dad's to meet up with all them. I can't cause some shit and take off," he guffawed. "Imagine?"

"Daddy—look-it." Littlest Ed came in, showing his father a box. "Can we build it tonight?" It was a model airplane.

"How 'bout we save it for another night?"

"Oh…" he whined. "We'll never do it."

"I meant what I said before. I'm home all week," Sonny said. "We'll leave the box here on the table so we both don't forget. All right?" He kissed his cheek. "You gotta be in bed early 'cause we're waking up early. Six Flags, remember?"

Littlest Ed nodded. "I 'member," he mumbled.

Sonny hugged him tight. "Go pick out a book, get your brother, and meet me in the den."

"'K." Littlest Ed went on his way.

I was bored, sitting back and wanting to take my kid home. She's a heavy sleeper, but I could probably wake her up on our way home. "I'mma grab Izzy and go," I told him. "Want me to give Beth a nudge?"

Sonny chuckled. "No…Thanks, though." He slapped his hand to mine.

As quietly and as quickly as I could, I gathered my daughter into my arms and left out the back way. She was limp against me, totally knocked out.

Once we were in my living room, I danced around with her a little—trying to wake her up.

She turned her head to rub her face into my chest.

"Come on…wake up." I rubbed her back.

She farted in my hand.

I sighed, walking toward the stairs. "You win."

Finally in her own bed, she opened her eyes to look at me, but she still refused to wake up. They closed just as fast, but she whispered my name, "Daddy."

"You sleep, my love," I crooned, wanting to snuggle, but I'd tried to disturb her enough.

When the dryer buzzed, I covered her with her blanket. Then I grabbed our hamper from our bathroom to toss it into the washer.

In the middle of folding Izzy's clothes, Jordan came in. She had a bunch of shopping bags with her, and she wore a smile.

I was elated by her presence, dropping what I'd been doing to make her drop everything she'd been holding.

She giggled into my mouth, trying to take her key out of the door. "Missed me?"

"Nah…not really," I lied, following her into the kitchen with all the stuff.

"You did laundry?" she asked, looking around. "You did the dishes?"

"Yeah." I shrugged, and I'd only done the dishes because of the mess our daughter had made.

"Wow…" She beamed, coming closer to run her hands up my chest. "Now, I hardly have anything to do tonight."

I quirked a brow, and after nearly four years, I might have finally caught on to how all this works. If do more of those "mom" things, Jordan has more time—for not only Izzy—but me. "The, um, the living room is neat, too. No biggie. The toys are picked up." I didn't necessarily lie there, either. "Izzy's down for the night…maybe. She fell out real early, but I'm pretty sure she didn't nap that long earlier."

Jordan giggled. "You took a nap, too?"

"You know it." I bit my lip, my hands spanning her ass. "We gotta be up early, too."

Jordan hummed, resting her head on my chest. "You're the best. I'm sorry I was mad earlier. You just—"

"I _was_ wrong for telling them when we'd agreed not to. I know." I nodded. "Don't feel bad for giving me shit...just buy me a kick-ass bike for my birthday."

"Oh, that can definitely be arranged." Her hands inched lower, toward my waist to be exact, and I held my breath. "I knew I was pregnant before I had my blood drawn—all the hormonal surges." She nipped my chin, running her finger along the band of my boxers. "Your scent driving me crazy, more pronounced…daydreaming about us fucking all the time. Just wanting you."

Her words drove me crazy, had my chest feeling all tight and shit.

"I'll slip in, say goodnight and turn on the baby monitor, and you'll start the Jacuzzi?" Jordan's voice was a seductive whisper. "It's early enough so we can play…and get some sleep."

I crashed my mouth to hers, and with how excited I was, I didn't think we'd make it upstairs. Without even voicing how insane with lust I was, Jordan started to undress me right here in the kitchen, and we fumbled all around the room.

We were naked and pawing at each other when I had a moment of clarity. "If Izzy comes down…" I swallowed.

Jordan kissed down my neck, jacking my cock, as a moan escaped. "She's seen me naked before." My wife was relentless, her touches rough and rapid. "Fuck me."

I nodded. "Yeah…"

As any smart parents would do, I turned Mommy around, bending her over the counter so we could both see the stairs.

**_/=/=/=/=/_**

We never got caught, lying spent and winded on our kitchen floor. "That was amazing." Jordan rubbed my stomach, placing sloppy kisses on my chest.

"It was." I gently messaged the back of her neck, loving how soft her hair felt against my fingers.

She grabbed for her shirt, placed it on, and then shimmied into her panties. I thought I'd get up, but my wife eased back down, into my arms. "Stay."

I agreed and put my boxers back on, although I had no idea why were still camped out on the floor.

Jordan left me, crawling over to the Walmart bags. "I bought pudding cups."

I chuckled, reaching high to grab a couple of spoons.

"I got a bunch. Izzy loves these." She opened a Snack Pack, and handed it to me.

"Thanks." Just like my daughter, I could seriously eat junk all day—too bad life and the wife won't let me.

She scooped chocolate pudding into her mouth. "Oh, Christ—this is so good. I had a…stupid grilled chicken salad for dinner."

"You know…you and your salads…they piss me off."

"If I ate like you do, I'd be four hundred pounds," she retorted.

"I just love you the way you are. Why can't you love you the way you are?" I asked. "Furthermore, chocolate pudding, or a burger, some carbs ain't gonna kill ya. You know that. And you _have to_ balance simple sugars along with all the protein now since you're pregnant."

"It's gonna be even harder losing the pounds again—"

"Shut up." I cut her off. "You can't really be strict counting calories now, either." I shook my head as something dawned on me. "You suggested we get the KFC. I should have known—we were celebrating something."

She kissed my cheek, that smile still present. "We should celebrate life every day," she sighed.

I stared at her for sounding so…wistful? Girly?

"I'm happy, Cullen…and I'm optimistic. Sue me." She pinched my nipple.

I growled, always her puppy, as I took a nip at that hand. "Me too…me too. You remember how I was when we first met. Well, when we first started dating." I pursed my lips, thinking about it. "I was empty—now I'm whole."

"Awww, I complete you." She placed her empty pudding container on the floor, nestling into my side. "You make me whole, too—you and Izzy." Suddenly, she sounded emotional. "I love you guys…so, so much."

"Baby…" I kissed those pouty lips. "You know it's hormones."

"No. Even if I'm mad and I wanna strangle you, I love you _all_ the time—"

"I know that." I chuckled. "I meant the tears."

We're so busy that before she told me, I wasn't even paying attention. Nor can I remember if she'd been presenting with symptoms. Now, I noticed. Jordan's not crazy, or extreme, and she can be a mush at times. Even more so during the first trimester.

"We have a comfortable bed upstairs," I said, wrapping my arm around her.

"Yeah, but I think this is one of those perfect moments. Just hold me."

"Gladly. I wish I could hold you forever and all the time." I grinned. "My pwetty mommy."

Jordan sniffled. "I've decided to take time off. I'm actually looking forward to it, like you wouldn't believe. I wanna see Izzy so much that she gets sick of me. I wanna do things—like take care of my husband." Her chin wrinkled. "You guys are what's more important."

I nodded but I wanted her to stop crying. Valid excuse or not, I didn't like seeing her sad. "You'll have more time to fuck me, blow me…You can even cut my toenails and make sure I bathe with soap."

She snickered, landing a smooch on my shoulder. "Yeah, sometimes wetting your hair and pretending, putting more deodorant on doesn't cut it." She loves me so much, she tells me when I need a shower.

"You'll have more time to help me study for the boards, too—I dig it." I reached to squeeze her butt. "Not having to worry about having clean boxers'll be nice, too…I can't wait to have you barefoot, pregnant in my kitchen and cooking me dinner." I grunted and punched my chest. "Me man. You woman."

She chuckled. "You're so silly."

"Yeah…I can't wait until Izzy starts school, and I can be known as 'Izzy's Silly Daddy'." It was true, but I didn't_ feel_ silly admitting that—not to Jordan. Also, given my profession, I'm allowed to be childish to relate to my patients. "You shoulda seen her earlier, having a fight with Beth."

"Fight?" Jordan lifted her head. "Did Izzy hit Beth? She knows not to—"

"Shhh." I kissed her lips. "It wasn't like that. They didn't throw down or anything. They just whined and screamed, like two spoiled princesses. It was funny."

"Oh." She let out a giggle.

"Mommy…?"

"Ahhh!" I screamed, jumping and knocking Jordan away. Izzy totally snuck up on us. I did not hear her at all. She just appeared in front of us. "What the fuck?"

"Relax!" Jordan hit me.

Izzy started to sob; I'd scared her, too. "Mommy…" She reached for Jordan.

"Oh, my baby." Jordan hugged her. "Daddy scared you?"

Izzy nodded and continued to cry, and I felt like crap.

"I'm sorry." I kissed her tiny hand.

Jordan rocked her but felt around Izzy's ass. "She's wet," she mouthed, leaving the floor with her.

I stood up, too. "You clean her—I'll change sheets?"

"Yeah." Jordan walked upstairs with her.

"Jammies!" I hollered, grabbing a pair of Izzy's from the table. Then I handed them over through the bars on the banister.

"Thanks." Jordan winked.

Once out of sight, I palmed my face, leaning back against the counter. My heart rate had finally started to slow down. Izzy coming out of nowhere had truly startled me.

I couldn't imagine how much more interesting life's little moments would be with another child.

And I couldn't fuckin' wait, suddenly excited by the thought.

* * *

**_Thank you!_**

**_Hope youse enjoyed it!_**

**_We'll hear from Kylie next!_**


	7. Kylie Chapter 1

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA **

**Summary: **Young mother Kylie just gave birth to her second child, who just can't stop crying. Dumbfounded and clueless, she tries to no avail to stop his tears while also trying to care for her four-year-old son and her husband, who just doesn't understand…How will she cope?

***Kylie's story comes in four parts/chapters***

* * *

**"Clueless"**

**Chapter One**

**Kylie POV**

**_L_**etting out an elongated sigh, I rocked my son, hoping and praying he'd stop crying. At nine days old, all he does is cry and carry on, and I haven't slept in what feels like…a decade.

Clueless as to what the problem was, I soothed him—I crooned, swayed, rocked him faster and then slower, and then not at all for a while—all to no avail.

"Please," I pleaded, and now _I_ was crying.

Monday can't come fast enough. I know infants cry, but this is getting to be too much. I made an appointment for Little Aro yesterday—to see the pediatrician. It's Saturday, and Monday's still two days away. I'm counting the hours down. I should have laid it on thicker, pleaded with the receptionist more. Maybe the doctor would have seen us today? That's what I'd hoped, but it is the weekend.

Lala—what Gio Jr. calls him, which coincides with his initials, Little Aro—doesn't have a fever. His diaper is bone-dry. I fed him about an hour ago, and he sucked down four ounces.

Clueless, fucking helpless, and mystified as to what the problem was, I continued with what I'd been doing.

"What's wrong?" I cried, wishing he could talk—just tell me. "Please, help Mommy out here."

He continued to wail, his face pink.

Thinking it might be gas, I'd put that Mylicon stuff in his bottle, like Damion suggested. I've been doing that. He burps fairly well regardless, and it doesn't matter. It's obviously not gas—nothing seems to be really wrong and nothing helps.

_Maybe my kid just likes to cry?_

That can't be.

Something's wrong.

Something _I_ can't see.

Something_ I'm_ too dumb to figure out.

_Fuck me. _

I took a deep breath when a sob got caught in my throat. "Please, baby…"

Embarrassed, unable to help my child, I refused to call my mother. She knows he can be a fussy baby, and with Christmas four days away, she's been busy. She hasn't been by all that much, but I know she'd be here every day if she could.

My stupid ass has also refused help, thinking I could handle it, thinking I could do it all.

But I suck.

I hate myself.

I love my children more than I could ever say. I have no regrets; I just wish I was a better mom, better at being a mom, smarter.

Or clairvoyant, so I could know what was wrong.

Everyone said it'd be harder with two, but I didn't care. Peto's in school now, which does make things easier, and my husband and I wanted to try for another. Given the timing, with Peto starting school, we wanted to go for it. I got pregnant pretty fast, too. We didn't really have to try. We waited the two months for my birth control to wear off, and then voila! I was pregnant, and I didn't even know it.

I just didn't think this would happen. My eldest son was a very good baby. He hardly made a fuss.

Gio, my husband—he left a little while ago, a little after one p.m. Apparently, there's this really famous person who's going to be performing at Midnight Sun tonight. I forget whom; I'm outta the loop when it comes to musicians these days.

Nevertheless, it's the weekend, which means I won't see my husband until Monday, pretty much. Another reason why I can't wait for Monday. He's home a lot more during the week—weekdays.

Running a nightclub, he's gone every weekend.

"Please, please…" I paced the nursery.

"Momma?" Peto entered, a frown on his face.

I sniffled, taking another deep breath. "Yeah…?" I smiled.

"Wha's wrong?" He touched Lala's foot, gazing up to me. "Why you cry?"

"Um…I'm fine. I have a bellyache." I tried to keep my voice light and happy.

"Oh…" Peto rubbed my stomach. "I hates bell-yaches." He walked over to the crib to climb it.

"Hey—"

"The chooch." He grabbed the pacifier. "Lala needs his chu-cho."

"Um…" I couldn't think anymore with my son crying. It killed me, broke my heart each time he wailed, and it frustrated me—I just couldn't fucking think, my brain dead or whatever. "I'll try."

Peto handed it to me. "I'mma hungry." He rubbed his tummy.

"Yeah…I'll, uh…" I tried giving Lala his _ciuccio, _his pacifier. "Please, take it. Please." I gently ran it along his bottom lip, hoping he'd latch on. "Come on, sweet boy." My stomach knotted up. "Come on." I touched his tongue with it, and he paused between cries with the pacifier still in his mouth.

Another second later, he was sucking it, small whimpers still escaping him.

Afraid, not sure if he'd stay quiet if I put him down, I rocked him some more.

A few minutes later or whatever, he was actually dozing off.

But I was a little confused since he'd just eaten. Pacifiers soothe babies between feedings; however, maybe he _was_ hungry? Maybe he's just a little _gavone_, and I didn't feed him enough?

If he was hungry again, I'd definitely heat up another bottle, no question. What's the harm in giving him more formula? I've done it a few times, when I figure he might be hungry. He settles down, but then he's screaming a little while later . . .

_Nothing helps. _

When I was nursing him in the hospital, he kept puking it back up. It didn't sit right, and he did that for a couple of days, until my mother suggested we try regular formula.

The vomiting stopped when we gave him the Similac; the crying did not, but his wailing all the time has gotten worse as the days pass.

Deciding to place him down, I figured if he started crying once more—which was more than likely a given—I'd heat up another bottle.

Thankfully, Lala settled down.

I turned on his monitor before leaving the room.

In the hall, I took several deep breaths while I leaned back against the wall.

Accustomed to the crying, my ears were ringing because of how quiet it suddenly was.

Then I fastened my bathrobe to go check on Peto. And my eyes widened when I saw the time—glancing at it when I passed the living room.

It was almost four p.m., and I hadn't given Peto his lunch.

I'd forgotten to feed my fucking kid.

"Oh my God," I cried, running to the kitchen.

But then I stopped.

My son sat on the floor, which was covered in Cheerios, as he ate the cereal.

He'd broken the box.

And I knew I was horrible.

_Who was I fooling?_

I'm a sham, the worst mother in the world.

"I feeded myself," he said with a mouthful. "Why you cry now, Momma?"

I tried not to sob as I eased myself onto the floor. "No reason. I'm sorry."

"No be sad." He went to hand me some Cheerios.

I couldn't even remember the last time I'd eaten something. So, I tossed them into my mouth and smiled at my son. "Thank you."

Peto scooted closer to lean his head on my bicep. "I yike'a cereal."

"Me too," I whispered, eating a few more off the floor.

It killed me, broke my heart into a few more pieces that Peto saw me cry, but I couldn't stop. I cried quietly, avoiding his gaze whenever he'd talk to me, and we continued to eat the cereal.

All of which was the most peaceful half-hour ever.

When he'd had enough, he went to watch cartoons, while I swept the kitchen floor—picking all the Cheerios up.

Meanwhile, a solid hour hadn't even passed before Lala was crying again.

My stomach in knots, I threw the contents of the dustpan, all the cereal, into the trash.

Then I ran up to the nursery, feeling light-headed when I approached the top landing. Taking a deep breath through my nose, I smoothed my greasy hair back—telling myself to stay calm.

My mother has told me plenty of times—how babies can sense your energy, like if they're in nervous hands, the baby will get upset, same with if you're crying.

"Hey, little guy!" I kept my voice enthusiastic, but I smelled it. Lala had poop in his diaper. "You're Mr. Stinky Pants." I forced a giggle as I began to change his diaper.

He had a huge dump in there, and it was loose. Lala's had diarrhea for the past few days, but it's not too watery, nasty...just loose and soft. I told the receptionist at the pediatrician's office that, and she told me it was okay.

Even with a clean diaper, my son carried on.

"Please…" I whispered, rocking him in my arms.

My phone vibrated within my robe pocket, and it was Alex—my aunt. Knowing she'd just call and call, I placed Lala down and entered the hall. "Hey," I answered.

"Why do you sound like that?" she asked.

"I'm just tired, you know…" I cleared my throat. "What's up?"

"I'm at the mall, Christmas shopping with your mom. She's in another store. I thought it'd be quicker if I just called you. Is Little Peto still a 4T?"

"No, he a grew a bit...5T or 6T," I said.

"Cool. I just found this really cute outfit—"

"Awesome," I whispered.

"Seriously, Ky. You okay? We can swing by when we leave…?"

My face crumpled as I listened to Lala cry. "I'm fine."

"All right," she sighed. "Take it easy. Okay?"

"Yeah, thanks." I was about to end the call, but she'd continued talking.

"We can come over with some takeout?" she asked. "Eat dinner together."

"Um…It's cool. I'll see you guys tomorrow. We're gonna come to Sunday dinner." I don't even remember if I'd really wanted to go, or just said that to rush her off the phone. But thinking about a break—ten minutes or so when others would gush and hold Lala—I felt even worse, looking to escape. "Bye." I ended the call to sob into my hands. "Fuck!" I kicked the wall before entering the nursery. "Please, baby boy."

My mind wandered again, thinking I should just take him to the emergency room.

Trying to compose myself, I sent Damion a text to see if he was home. Maybe I could just have him give Lala a quick exam? I didn't know, but my brother lives around the corner. When he hadn't answered me back right away, I called Maggie.

"Hey, girl…What's up? How you feelin'?" It sounded like she had her hands full, too. But she was breezy while her own kids made noise—screamed. It's a different kind of screaming, but…

"Um…Is my brother home?" I asked.

The reason I didn't outright call Damion was because he'd hear my voice. Then he'd call my mother, and I had something to prove.

No, I didn't care anymore.

I'd accept any help anyone could give me.

Anything to make this kid stop crying, I thought.

"Yeah…You wanna talk to him? . . . Get off the table!" The latter half of that sentence wasn't for me.

"I meant Damion. Can you look out the window, tell me if his car's there?"

"Sure. Gimme a sec. Everything okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," I lied. "No, not really."

"Want me to come over?" she offered. "Yeah, Dame's home—Jordan too. Both cars are there."

I blew out a calming breath. "Thanks…You stay there. I'm gonna go to Dame's—see if he can check Lala out," I explained. "Maggie, he won't stop crying. He cries almost twenty hours a day or something. I haven't slept—" It was quiet for thirty seconds, and I thought he stopped, but then he wailed. "I suck."

"You don't suck," she said. "Remember how crazy it was—how crazy I was? Having an infant _and_ a one-year-old? It was hard. Being a mom _is_ hard…even when your kid's not crying," she sighed. "I can be there in ten minutes. I just put dinner in the oven, and Santino can take over—"

"It's okay."

"All right. It's pretty cold, even if you're down the block. I'll tell Santino to come get you?" she suggested.

"It'd take longer loading the kids into the car." I ran to my bedroom to put my sneakers on, not caring that I was still in PJs. "And I don't wanna wait. His crying is scaring the crap outta me, Mags."

"We'll go to the ER, Kylie. If you're that concerned—"

"Damion. I'll have Dame look at him. Then…" I thought I was going to vomit.

"Well, whatever you decide…Keep me informed, and, hey…Little Peto can have a sleepover wit' the boys…?"

"I'll let you know." I wiped my tears. "Thanks." I ended the call, and I knew Maggie wouldn't forget to feed him. "God…" I stared to the ceiling.

As fast as I could, I grabbed Peto's sneakers, meeting him in the living room. He wasn't in PJs but wearing a sweat suit.

"Gimme your feet." I quickly placed his shoes on, fastened the Velcro straps.

"We goin' bye-byes?" he asked.

"Yeah. We're going to Uncle Damion's."

"Yes!" He smiled. "I can pway wiff Izzy." He ran from me, probably going to get his coat.

I sighed, trying to ignore Lala as I packed a small bag for him—diapers and shit. Then I grabbed his snowsuit after I put him in some heavy sweats and a sweater.

"You ready?" I called for Peto once we were ready to go and in the foyer.

He ran out holding his coat, a couple of toys in his arms. "Yup!" He bounded down the steps, jumping one at a time.

I bent low to bundle him up as well. "We're gonna play a game. Okay?"

Peto beamed, nodding.

I put his hat on, making sure to cover his ears. "We're gonna run—see how fast we can get to Unky's. All right?" Thoughts of them being in the cold had me totally paranoid. We could be there in five minutes, provided we had a decent pace.

"Cool." He fastened his mittens.

I licked my lips as I placed my bathrobe on Lala. It's thick, big enough to provide a lot of warmth. I'd been wearing it, it has my scent, and I hoped he'd settle down again before I got to Dame's.

After I put on my coat and locked the door, we started to race. I ran with the carriage. Peto had gripped the edge of the stroller and tried to keep up. His little legs can only carry him so fast, and I didn't want him breathing the cold air deeply.

We stopped for a few seconds, and he hopped onto my back.

He laughed and laughed, giggling up a storm while we ran up Dame's walkway.

"Can I ring da bell?" he asked.

"You got it." I tried to catch my breath.

He rang it five times and even leaned on it, but I didn't care.

His persistence made it so Dame answered right away.

My brother's eyes widened in shock. "What's up?"

I tried not to cry as we entered.

"Peto!" Izzy jumped at him.

My son laughed as he dug his toys out from the bottom of the carriage. "I gots'a my stuff."

"Come on." Izzy dragged him toward the living room.

I blew out a breath.

Dame watched them run away and then bent low to uncover his other nephew. "What's up with this little guy?" He took Lala out, rocking him. "Why's he crying?"

"I don't know." I shrugged, trying to keep the tears at bay. "He cries and cries—Damion, something's wrong. I need you—I think I should take him to the emergency room."

"Shhh." Dame kissed my forehead. "It's okay. Relax." He hugged me to his side.

"Hey!" Jordan's face was bright as she rubbed her baby bump. She's six months, and she's having another little girl. And she just looked so happy, and here I am with my crap . . . She works hard during the week, hardly sees Izzy, and here I am.

I just cried harder.

"I'm sorry for barging in," I said.

Her brow furrowed. "That's crap. What's going on?"

I repeated myself, hoping the two docs in the fam could figure it out. I'm not stupid. I know my brother is a pediatric surgeon, and it's not the same as being a pediatrician. I know Jordan delivers babies. She doesn't treat them, but they're both doctors. They both went to medical school.

"Colic," Dame pursed his lips.

"_Sounds_ like Colic," Jordan said. "He has an upset stomach, too? He couldn't digest your breast milk, and he's got diarrhea now?"

I nodded.

She shared a look with my brother. "There's special formula that's hypoallergenic…The one he's on now is obviously no good. And I bet with him crying, you're feeding him more?"

I nodded again as I wiped my eyes.

Jordan reached to do it for me, and I placed my hand on hers, which was soothing. "Don't feel bad…Okay? But…the formula you're giving him now…it's no good. Every time you feed him, he's getting a stomachache...That could be why he's crying so much, or it could be colic, which…you'll have to tough out—see what soothes him best." I knew she didn't wanna say that I was making a bad situation worse. "Let Dame give him a quick exam."

While Dame brought Lala into the kitchen, and Jordan grabbed a stethoscope, I snuck into the bathroom.

I didn't want to look in the mirror, but I did. My eyes were red-rimmed, swollen. There were pinkish splotches on my face, and my hair was a wreck.

Taking a whiff at my pits, I smelled.

"Keep it together," I told myself, grabbing my brother's spray-on deodorant before I splashed my face with water.

Fuck, I wasn't even wearing a bra.

My head was pounding.

Before I left the bathroom, I helped myself to some Advil that was in the medicine cabinet.

They were still looking him over when I entered the kitchen. "Hey…" I grabbed a water from the fridge, and I smelled garlic in the air. "You're cooking?"

Jordan grinned. "Maggie gave me your mom's recipe for baked ziti. There's plenty. I hope you stay for dinner." She gave my hand a squeeze. "Oh, and I have plain noodles for Izzy and Peto."

I tried to smile back, but then it got quiet when Lala finally settled down.

My brother paused to stare, listening intently but keeping the stethoscope to his stomach. "You've been giving him the Mylicon?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

Dame took the stethoscope away from his ears. "I think he's colicky…He's healthy. There's nothing wrong with his anatomy. His vitals are excellent. His heart sounds perfect, as do his lungs..." He shrugged. "His stomach is noisy, though. He's got a lot of gas that could be stuck. He could be having trouble passing gas, which is uncomfortable." He rocked Lala, placing his lips to his hair. "You sit. You guys eat, and I'll run to the store—pick up some Alimentum for him."

"Oh…" I felt even worse for ruining their dinner. "I, uh…"

"Hey," Jordan made me face her, "—go relax. Take a short nap in our bed. I'll feed Peto, and I'll keep an eye on this little guy."

I shook my head. "I'm okay. I'm just worried about him."

She squeezed my hand and then took the baby from my brother.

After Damion left, I had a cup of coffee while I watched Jordan try a million things. She tried swaddling him in different ways, not swaddling him at all, singing to him, and rocking him. My sister-in-law even grabbed Izzy's old vibrating chair, which did the trick for about ten minutes.

I knew he was probably hungry again; it was about that time, the time I'd give him a bottle.

But I didn't. I couldn't—not if his current formula was the culprit, or if it contributed to him crying.

"You can let him cry," Jordan said, taking the tray of ziti out of the oven.

I stared at Lala, who was in the chair on top of the table. "No, I really can't." If I could only explain—admit that his wails threatened to drive me insane. I'd sound horrible.

Thinking of that only made me feel worse, and I tried to hold back my own tears.

"No, I meant…Keep an eye on him—you make sure he's okay. But it's not the worst thing." She placed some plain macaroni into bowls for Izzy and Peto, adding butter. "No mother wants to see their children cry, but sometimes…Kylie, that's _all_ you can do."

"Yeah." I sniffled. "I can't stop either, it seems."

"Momma!" Peto shouted, running into the room with Izzy. "Can I have ronies wiff Izzy?"

I held his face and kissed his lips. "Yeah."

He giggled, backing away.

"Not so fast." Jordan called them back. "Sit at the table." She placed their bowls down and gave them juice boxes.

The kids pulled chairs out, while I grabbed Lala to move him closer—out of their way. He was quieting down again.

I stared out the kitchen window, thinking the Advil was kicking in.

There was a fog on the glass from the oven being on, it being so warm. Peto and Izzy chatted amongst themselves. Jordan hadn't said anything in a few minutes, and it felt peaceful, as I focused my eyes on the different colored lights—the Christmas decorations across the street. They flicked in a beat—on/off, on/off—and my eyes fluttered to a close.

My lids actually burned my eyeballs, but it felt good.

"Kylie?" Jordan whispered.

I jumped. "I'm up."

"Poor baby." She rubbed my cheek. "Go upstairs." She tried to hand me a bowl. "Eat some and try to close your eyes for a bit."

"I'm okay," I lied again, and I knew I didn't have to—not with Jordan, just like I'd told Maggie the truth.

Just like I'd tell my mom now.

Accepting help, soothing my child, was way more important than my pride.

"All right." She served me anyway, taking her own seat next to me. "I bet Dame comes back soon. Then, we'll try giving him the new formula—see how it goes."

"Thank you." My lip quivered as I placed some macaroni in my mouth. It was delicious. "Oh my God…"

"Right?" She smiled. "I didn't think it'd be this good…That _I_ could cook this good."

I giggled, leaning back to look at those lights again.

Knowing it'd be hectic when the baby came, and needing to give Peto a tree—since he's old enough to be aware this year—we decorated the house just after Thanksgiving. I'd even gone Christmas shopping, trying to get it all done while I was big and pregnant.

Thank God, too.

Or else it'd be a shitty Christmas at the Andino house.

When the doorbell rang, my stomach lurched, eyeing my son.

He was still quiet.

And Maggie came into view.

"Aunty!" Izzy lunged to hug her, looking around—both kids did. They were probably looking for Beth.

"Hey." She looked to me, tilting her head to the side.

My face crumpled. "I suck."

She giggled. "You do not." Maggie stood to my side and hugged me close. "I was just coming to see how things went."

"Did you tell Sonny?"

Maggie paused.

"It's okay if you did." I rolled my eyes, knowing she tells him everything.

"I said you were over here." She nodded. "I didn't wanna concern him unless something was up. You know how he worries." Maggie looked to Jordan. "Is Lala okay?"

"Yeah…he'll be all right. So will this one." She gave my knee a squeeze. "She just needs some sleep."

Maggie bent low to talk to me. "We can take both of them for the night. It's no problem—"

I shook my head, knowing Gio would give me shit—for being a piece-of-shit mother or whatever. "I'll be fine."

That's when Damion showed up, and then there were a million people in that kitchen.

"Sonny just told me. Congrats." Dame landed a smooch in Maggie's hair while he got a bottle together.

I stared at my sister-in-law. "You know…it's not a competition." Without her confirming, I knew she was pregnant again.

Maggie pointed to herself. "Dude, this one wasn't planned—far from it."

"Congratulations," I said, standing to give her a hug. Days prior, I'd noticed she'd put on a few pounds, but I didn't think anything of it. "How far along?"

"Twelve weeks." Maggie held her gut. She and my brother were never strict with telling us about their pregnancies. They'd inform the fam as soon as she'd pee on a stick. That was until Maggie miscarried almost two years ago. I could understand why the news was just being delivered now. "Are _you_ okay?" she whispered.

"I don't know." I was honest again. "I love ya, Mags."

"I love you, too." She kissed my cheek, leaning away and sighing. "I gotta head back to the zoo now—feed the animals." Maggie winked. "Call me if anything. Even if you want me to pop by so you can nap or shower." Right now, the thought of her coming over with her brood was worst than my own reality—_if _she'd bring all the kids. Of course, Maggie by herself or only with Sonny, is welcome at any time.

"And call your mom." Maggie waved to everyone and let herself out.

"Okay. Let's see if Docta' D can help." My brother grinned, gathering Lala into his arms. "Don't you start crying, you," he spoke to the baby, cradling him close. "You're gonna eat and go to sleep, and Momma can relax." He walked out of the kitchen.

Since he had the baby, and the sounds of his cries started to fade into nothing, I relaxed at the table—eating my cold macaroni in a total daze.

The kids had since finished eating, going off to play in Izzy's room.

Jordan flitted about her own kitchen, setting a plate and place for my brother at the table. She seemed happy about it, and I was happy for her, although she's only beginning to play house…hasn't quit working just yet.

But she wore a smile, ecstatic to serve her husband.

Jordan also folded a napkin all pretty.

And I . . .

I felt like a zombie, almost numb but not really, since I _could_ cry _if_ I gave in to it.

Instead, I almost fell asleep with my head in my plate.

Not caring, it being silent again, I crossed my arms and put my head down.

I have no idea how long I'd actually slept at that table.

* * *

**Thank you for reading. **

**Please leave me your thoughts. **


	8. Kylie Chapter 2

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Beta'd by HollettLA**

**Summary: **Young mother Kylie just gave birth to her second child, who just can't stop crying. Dumbfounded and clueless, she tries to no avail to stop his tears while also trying to care for her four-year-old son and her husband, who just doesn't understand…How will she cope?

* * *

**"Clueless"**

**Chapter Two**

**Kylie POV**

_**W**_hen I woke up, it was close to seven. Damion sat across from me eating. I guessed I'd only been out like twenty minutes. "He ate five, almost six ounces—burped good. Now, he's chillin'." Dame chewed. "I bet it was the formula. A lot of babies have digestion problems…are allergic. See how it goes, you know?"

"Yeah…five ounces. He usually only drinks four at a time," I whispered, taking the last sip of my cold coffee.

"This formula is lighter on the stomach…" He forked some food into his mouth. "_Madonn'_ . . . fuckin' delicious . . . I love this. King of the castle, my woman serving me." Dame sounded just like Dad.

I giggled only to start crying again.

I missed my dad.

I missed my mom.

I missed the simplicity that everything used to be—

"I'm a horrible mother," I cried. "Who thinks this stuff?" I pointed to my temple.

Dame widened his arms. "Whatta you thinkin'?"

I shook my head. "I love my children. I love them so much. I just miss…I don't know." I covered my face.

"Hey…" Dame came over to hold me. "Stop that. Okay? You're great. A fantastic mom. Having an infant who cries all the time, that's stressful. Plus, your hormones are still all outta whack. Your body's adjusting…You're sleep deprived. Kylie—" he picked my chin up "—you're a great mother. I've never seen you adapt, fall into a role like that. The way you are with Peto, with Izzy…You're amazing, Kylie-Cat." He squashed me to his side.

"I love you, Dame-y Bear." I tried not to sob, holding it back.

"I love you, too." He gave me another squeeze, quick to get back to his plate. "Gio's gonna be gone all night. All of youse stay here, or…go to Sonny's, Mom and Dad's. It doesn't matter. You need a break before _you_ get sick." He pointed his fork at me.

I declined, as everything I'd need for both kids were still at my house.

Lala was quiet for a whole half-hour, and I felt relieved, hoping we'd both get some sleep tonight.

Plus, if I could finally get some rest, I wanted my own bed.

I needed Gio to hold me, gather me into his arms when he came home. I needed him, even if it'd only be a glimpse—a short while—and I couldn't stay anywhere.

Damion said he'd give us a ride home, which was kind of dumb. Again, it'd take longer to load the kids in and out, and Saturday's almost his only day off.

I still felt incredibly guilty for barging in on them.

But Damion saved my bacon.

He really did.

He'd bought enough formula to last until Monday.

My brother refused my giving him money. Well, I left without my purse, so I didn't have any dough to give him at the moment, but I know how expensive formula can be.

He'd also insisted on giving us a lift, but then Sonny came by.

My biggest bro was concerned for me, too.

And because he reminds me so much of Dad, because he's always been a pseudo father in a way, I felt totally juvenile when I hugged him and didn't wanna let go. He smelled good, had cologne on, and he was in a suit, ready to go out—for work.

"Midnight Sun?" I asked, wiping my eyes again.

He frowned, staring down at me. "No, I have a meeting at La Bella Italia…I'll call or stop by Midnight Sun, send Gio home. I'll tell Ant to close—"

"No," I whispered. "Just…" If Lala was calming down, I'd be okay. "I just need my bed. Can you drive us home?"

"Ugh!" Damion threw his hands up. "It's okay for him to—? I don't understand."

"Sonny's on his way out; he's leaving already, goober." I furrowed my brow. "He's going my way."

Dame nodded. "Let Peto sleep over."

I thought about it.

"He could stay with us, too." Sonny pinched my cheek.

I didn't want to say no to Damion, but Peto spends a whole lot more time with Maggie.

Damion and Jordan are busy people, and I don't think they've ever watched Peto.

My son also spends a lot of time with my nephews—they're his best friends, more like his brothers than cousins.

Plus, he has bad dreams, and I know he won't hesitate to wake Sonny or Maggie up. He's most comfortable with them—around them more.

"Um…I think he'd probably—rather stay with Li'l Sonny and Eddie. I'm just being honest." I put my hands up. "I'll ask him, let _him_ decide."

At the end of the day, I knew neither Jordan nor Maggie would forget to feed him. He'd be well taken care of no matter where he stayed.

"What?" Dame was offended, I could tell. "His place is a madhouse." He pointed to our brother.

Sonny chuckled. "Yeah, but Mags has a lot of patience—lets them run around and shit 'til they pass out." He shrugged. "I think they're making sugar cookies or something tonight."

"I have an idea," Jordan spoke up. "I think it'd be a lot of fun." She was excited about something, her face lighting up. "Izzy and I can stay over, too—we can camp in the living room, all the kids could play."

"Yo…" Dame stared at her.

"It was just an idea, and I'd get to chill with Maggie. Or, we can stay late—decorate cookies, and then come home." She shrugged.

"I won't be out long at all." Sonny looked to his watch. "Either way, all of youse know youse don't need an invite." He turned to Jordan. "That'd probably make Maggie's night. She's been having some nausea, but she's good." I still couldn't believe they kept her pregnancy a secret all this time. Or, I bet everyone knows but me; I've had my hands full, and Sonny _just_ told Damion.

"Still?" Jordan is Maggie's doctor. Regardless, I couldn't believe Jordan kept that from her husband.

"You knew?" Dame asked.

"Uh, yeah, but she's also my patient," Jordan explained. There's some rule or something. And Maggie sees my doctor toward the ends of her pregnancies. But she's loyal, so…Jordan sees her before referring her elsewhere. It's something about family, and Jordan can't actually birth the babies…? I don't know. "Did the ginger ale help at all? Those home remedies I suggested?"

"No." Sonny snorted, and the idle chatter helped me relax even more. "But you know what I figured out?" He didn't wait for her to inquire. "I remember. She threw up a lot while pregnant with Sonny and then Eddie. She didn't puke once with Beth. I'm thinking this is another boy."

"It's possible." Jordan nodded. "We'll see how she carries. With Beth she gained weight everywhere, but with the boys it was like she'd swallowed a basketball."

"All right…Can someone tell me what we're doin'?" Damion was pissy, or jealous—of Sonny occupying Jordan's time. He is a goober sometimes, a wonderful weirdo. "Am I taking Ky home? Is Peto staying here or at Sonny's…?" He showed us his palms. "I'd just like to know what's up."

"You're such a grouch sometimes." Jordan grinned, hitting him with her butt.

Dame was fast to paw at it. "Look, go home and get some rest. Peto'll either be here or next door." He wrapped his arms around his wife. "We'll probably head over for a bit . . . Maggie's making cookies and all."

Jordan giggled, sucking her teeth. "Always thinking about your stomach," she teased.

Now, I was jealous—wanting to share carefree, witty, and silly banter with my husband.

"Okay…" I walked around them to go up a few steps. "Peto!"

Little feet ran down the hall until both Izzy and Peto came into view. "Yeah, Momma?"

I smiled because I love that he calls me "Momma," when all the other kids call their mothers, "Mommy." He sometimes sounds like an Italian immigrant. Don't ask me why, and when something's wrong, he goes, "Momma, Momma, Momma!" trying to call for me.

"Do you wanna have a sleepover with Izzy?" I asked, grabbing a booger out of his nose.

"Eh…" He leaned away. "Out my nose."

I'd gotten it and wiped it off on my shirt. "I'm gonna go home with Lala…" I turned to my brothers. "Regardless, he needs PJs from one of the boys."

"We have tees," Dame said.

"My Peto's staying." Izzy hugged his neck. "You can sleep wiff me."

"Okay." Peto shrugged. "Can Eddie and Sonny come over, too?"

"See?" I looked to Dame, but my attention went back to Peto. "That's up to your uncle. You sure you wanna stay?"

He nodded, his eyes bright. "I'mma miss you. You come and'a get me in da mornin'. Okay, Momma?" He hugged me.

I squeezed him tight, bending low to kiss his hair and then his lips. "I love you. Be good and listen to your aunt and uncle."

"I will." He nodded.

"Come on." Izzy pulled on his sleeve. "We gotta jump on da bed wiffout dem." I'm guessing it was supposed to be a secret.

"No jumping." Dame's tone was stern. "One of youse falls, and I don't wanna hear it. Why don't you come hang out down here? Play with toys in the living room."

"No fun, Daddy." Izzy pouted, walking down with Peto on her heels.

"Sometimes, it's not my job to be fun. I'm your dad." He tickled her side, while she winced away. "Get over here." Then he grabbed Peto to tickle him crazy.

I giggled, watching them as they disappeared. "Thank you," I told Jordan.

She kissed my forehead. "Call…I don't know why you won't call your mother. Bella wonders if you're mad at her."

That threatened to make me cry again. I'd been so busy, so wrapped up in things, I hadn't called her—talked to her since she was over days ago. "I'm not. I'll call when I get home." I needed my mother like I needed air to breathe.

Knowing I'd be talking to her soon was like a light at the end of the tunnel.

"Thanks so much again." I hugged her, and then I turned to get Lala. Sonny had him already—my bathrobe wrapped around the baby.

My uncle was actually outside, idling at the curb, and I had no idea why he didn't come inside. Well, I know why. Again, I have no idea what happened…whenever, but I know neither Dame nor Uncle Carlisle go out of their way to hang out with each other. They're cordial. They even joke and laugh, and they do talk, but there's still tension.

Sonny rode in the back with me, still holding Lala close since there was no car seat. We got to my house in less than a minute.

"You want me to send Alex over?" My uncle wore a frown. "She won't mind, not at all. A little help from whoever, whenever…" He trailed off.

"It's okay." I took the baby from my brother since Sonny insisted on opening my front door—checking the house before I entered. He's paranoid. "Thanks, though. He seems cool," I whispered; Lala was still quiet. He was awake, his brown eyes wide, and I decided the new formula was magic.

_Fucking magic. _

"You look terrible, my niece-y-poo." Uncle Carlisle palmed my cheek.

"Thanks," I grumbled.

"I'm just concerned. I'll talk to Peto—"

"No!" I exclaimed. "Just leave it. Okay? Please?" Before he could respond, I added, "Don't tell my dad or Aro either. They'll make it all a bigger deal. I don't know."

Uncle Carlisle nodded, agreeing with me, but I knew he was lying.

I sighed, seeing Sonny on my stoop. "Thanks for the ride."

My brother ushered us inside, and I breathed in relief—the comfort of home, having Lala quiet.

"Don't fight me. I'm sending Peto home." Sonny kissed my forehead. "You need help, Ky, and I don't give a fuck. Let him sit with the baby for a while. It doesn't matter—if you stay home and he works—you're both parents. I used to get up with the kids all the time. Hell_, I still do_ when I'm home." He shrugged. "It's hard to do it alone, but you shouldn't have to . . . you have a husband."

I didn't say anything, knowing that no matter what I said, he'd be sending Gio home.

"Actually…" He held up a finger, placing his cell to his ear.

I left him to his call to unbundle my son.

Now, he was asleep, and after I put him down . . .

I said another silent prayer, thanking God, Damion, Jordan, Sonny…most of all the makers of Alimentum formula.

Sonny was smiling when he ended his call. "I didn't have to say anything. Gio's already on his way home."

"Who do you think talked to him?" I asked.

"I didn't say anything. I called and he said—he was on his way home to surprise you. I don't think anyone did." He kissed my forehead. "Have a good night and get some rest." Sonny closed the door after himself, and I locked it up.

Once again, as soon as my mother picked up the phone, I wanted to cry—this time in relief. She was out to dinner with my aunt, but she let me ramble on, tell her about what's been happening. Mom was relieved to hear how Damion helped, how the new formula was like a miracle. She still offered to come over, ditch her supper, but I told her I was okay—not wanting to disturb her night. Then she said she'd tell Dad to stop by, keep me company, listen for the baby while I slept, that she'd be over too when she was done . . .

I declined, letting her know Gio was on his way home.

Then she yelled at me…

Apparently, I'm stubborn, blah, blah…

I was told to call if anything, that she could be here in ten minutes—five if she was home.

"I love you," I cried, although I tried not to.

"Baby…I hate this. You need me, I'm there. Just tell me." Mom sounded emo now, too.

I sniffled as I heard Gio's keys; he was at the door. "I'll call." I wiped my eyes and then waved at my face, hoping it wasn't red. "Gio's home now."

"I love, love you, my Kylie. Mwah!" She sent me a kiss through the phone before ending the call.

Drying my face with my shirt, I tried to cheer up.

Gio wore a smile as he walked in. "Why you cryin'?" He kinda sounded like Little Peto.

It made me giggle. "I was just talking to my mom…"

Gio grabbed my chin and kissed me deep, a heart-searing lip-lock. He groaned, leaning away but wrapping his arms around me. "It's quiet."

I rested my head to his chest, exhausted. "I had to change formula…It was stomachaches, but he's still whinging and whining, crying. He's just quiet now."

"Should make him a doctor's appointment." He palmed my ass and kissed down my neck. "Where's Peto?"

Nothing he was doing was turning me on—I was numb but happy he was home, and yet I was too tired to show it, exasperated.

I tried to smile for my husband, knowing how hard he works, how stressed he might be with work. "He's at my brother's," I said. "Damion's…Why are you home?" I wondered who'd spoken to him, told him I was losing it.

"Why's he at Damion's?" He had a bit of an attitude. "Come on, Ky. You can't just pawn him off—"

"When do I _ever_, ever, _pawn_ him off?" I got defensive. "Pawn? Only a couple of times when we had a date—the _two_ times you took me out in the past four years—has he ever stayed over Sonny's. Get your facts straight. I don't _pawn_ my kid off on anyone!"

He brushed his hair back with his hand. "I don't have all the time in the world. Sorry if I hoped to see my kid…"

I didn't say anything, not wanting to fight.

He let out a breath, taking off his coat. "I came home to have dinner with my wife, see my sons." He shrugged. "Did you make those steaks I marinated?"

I palmed my forehead. "I…no," I said. "I didn't cook at all—"

Gio was upset, staring to the floor.

"Um…I can make them now?" I asked.

"Don't bother. I just came home for a bit, so we could have dinner. I still gotta go back."

"No one told you—"

"Told me, what?" He had fight in his voice. "I'm really . . ." He paused. "Kylie, you're home all day. You can't cook? You can't clean this place up a bit?" He showed me a dirty burp cloth.

I thought I was going to vomit. "You have no idea—"

"You can't spare a measly twenty minutes to throw something together?" he asked. "How fucking lazy are you?"

I cried into my hands, and I had no rebuttal, as I wondered what the point was.

"I get it. You got Little Aro and Peto, but Peto's fine. He doesn't need as much care, can occupy himself." He shook his head. "I just don't understand. Then…you got our whole family here to help. I bet your moms came over after I left, was here all day, and _she_ took care of the kids!" His voice rose. "But _you_ couldn't cook?"

My lip quivered. "You have no idea what my day is like. You don't even give a fuck to ask. All…where's my dinner?" I picked up that same cloth and chucked it at him. "Fuck you! You don't know about my day, or all the shit I do—how Lala cries all day long. _All_ day!"

Gio reached for my hand.

I backed away. "Thank God for my family. Because I sure as fuck don't get any help from _you_!"

"Kylie…" He wouldn't let me get away, and pulled me to him. "Stop—"

"No!" I sobbed. "You don't know. You don't even care to ask. You have no idea—" Lala started screaming again, and my knees felt weak—the sound threatening to kill me. Like I was literally going insane. "Leave," I said.

"What?" He leaned away to stare at me.

I beat against his chest. "Get the fuck out! I can't deal with you, too!"

"Kylie…stop." He grabbed my hands.

"No!" I pulled away from him. "He's a baby. He can't help it, but I won't listen to you. I can't. Get out!" I pointed. "Get outta my house!" Hollering, I ran upstairs to the nursery. "Go find some perfect bitch who'll cook you dinner!" I threw one of Peto's toys at him.

He barely dodged it and ran up the stairs—chasing me.

Once inside the nursery, I locked the door and leaned against it.

"Open this fuckin' door!" He banged it. "I'm not fuckin' around, Ky."

"Leave!" I cried.

"You don't mean that," he said. "Come out, and…Fuckin' talk to me!" Gio hit the door again, which made me jump.

I ignored him, leaning over the crib to pick up my son. "Shhhh," I sobbed, breaking down as I rocked him. "You're okay. We're okay…"

"I'm sorry. All right? Open the door, Ky!"

"Daddy's an asshole." I knew he'd hear me.

"Nice . . . You know what?" he asked. "You want me gone…I'm out."

I heard him tramping down the steps, and then I cried harder when he slammed the front door. "I didn't—I didn't think he'd actually leave," I told Lala. "Mommy sucks. I'm stupid."

Lala settled down a little.

"You think that's funny?" I sniffled, calming when he did. "Mommy's a dummy?"

He didn't have a reaction, but he'd stopped crying.

Our voices must have disturbed him, of course. He seemed to be doing a little better. His cry wasn't the same painful wail, but it was close.

After changing him and swaying him for an immeasurable amount of time, he fell back to sleep.

Worse for wear, still crying and exhausted, I let myself out of the nursery.

That was when it hit me, and I cried even harder.

I mean, I knew he'd come back.

But when…?

He didn't even beg to stay. He didn't even try that hard to talk to me, giving me that bullshit apology. Gio wasn't sorry at all.

I bet he wanted an excuse to leave.

About to curl up with my phone and the baby monitor, there was a soft knock at the door.

I smiled to myself, thinking maybe it was Gio, but it was my dad.

"Did-did you see Gio?" I asked.

Dad furrowed his brow, locking the door. "No…I just spoke to your mom."

I covered my face and Dad pulled me into his arms. "I screwed up, Skip."

"Oh…" He rubbed my back. "Talk to me."

I wiped my eyes, and Dad wiped my nose, getting my boogies, which made me giggle.

My father ushered me over toward the couch, and I tried to keep it together while I told him about my whole day. He wouldn't stop asking until I did, and it felt good to talk it out.

Talking actually kept me awake.

"He doesn't care—just worrying about his dinner," I cried. "I told him to leave, which was dumb…" I shook my head. "But…I didn't wanna fight. He called me lazy, and I am lazy…I suck. I can't even keep my kid quiet enough to throw a meal together." The guilt was threatening to kill me. "I forgot to feed Peto earlier." I wailed, muffling my cries with a pillow. "I'm horrible."

"Oh, baby." Dad squashed me to him. "You're none of those things. You hear me? You're amazing. And Peto's four. I bet he told you when he was hungry."

I tried to compose myself. "He told me, I think…I don't even know. Once I remembered…" The scene with the cereal broke my heart even more. "Daddy…" I hugged my father tight.

"You're okay. Come here." He pulled me onto his lap, like I was four or something. But I didn't care. "Peto's gonna come home."

"You-you can't hurt him. This is my-my fault," I said.

He wiped my tears away. "Youse were both talkin' shit." He shrugged. "You're a married couple. I'm not gonna interfere."

I sighed. "Okay."

It got quiet for a few minutes, and I settled down.

"Do you even _want_ Gio to come home?" he asked, grimacing. "Hey, if shit has run its course—it's run its course." He clapped once. "You feel me, baby girl? You and the kids can come live with Mom and me. Fuck Gio—"

"No." I rushed out. "I still love him. He's my husband. We just…I can't believe I kicked him out."

"Good for you." Dad looked proud. "Fuck him."

"Don't say that." I shook my head. "What if—"

"You want him back?" Dad made me look at him.

"Yeah...of course I do," I whispered, trying my hardest not to cry again.

Dad pursed his lips, shrugging. "Then he'll be back."

I blew out a large breath. "I'm so tired."

Dad made me rest my head on his shoulder. "Sleep." He started to rock me.

I giggled. "Tell me everything'll be okay."

"Everything will be okay," he said and kissed my hair. "Go to sleep. Daddy's here."

"Thanks." I closed my eyes, trying to breathe deep, relax.

"I told you—you'll always be my baby. Same with Dame and Sonny. Doesn't matter how old youse get." He rubbed my back.

"You are the world's greatest dad. You should wear those shirts."

He chuckled. "Close your eyes. With some sleep, shit won't seem as bad. I promise. And Gio will be home."

"Okay." I rested my head to the crook of his neck, straightening my legs as I was sitting on him sideways. "I love you…"

"I love you." He kissed my forehead.

"How'd you know to come over?" I asked.

"Mom told me, like she tells me everything," he laughed. "I'd be one dense, lonely—miserable motherfucka without your mother."

I smiled, always a fan of how deeply he's loved Mom—their relationship had always been like a fairy tale to me. "Is Mom gonna come over?"

"We didn't wanna crowd ya…She wanted me to remind you that she's a phone call away, though. You call—you know she'll come running." He pushed my hair behind my ear. "We can call her now…"

"I'm cool." I felt myself dozing off.

* * *

_**Thank you for reading. **_

_**Please leave me your thoughts. **_


	9. Kylie Chapter 3

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Beta'd by HollettLA**

**Summary: **Young mother Kylie just gave birth to her second child, who just can't stop crying. Dumbfounded and clueless, she tries to no avail to stop his tears while also trying to care for her four-year-old son and her husband, who just doesn't understand…How will she cope?

* * *

**"Clueless"**

**Chapter Three**

**Kylie POV**

**_W_**hen I woke up, I was on the couch, covered by a blanket.

My father wasn't in the living room at all—the house was quiet, and I stared down at the baby monitor.

Then, since it was _too_ quiet, I rushed to get upstairs—a worried mess.

I'd only slept for an hour, but then so did Lala.

"Thank you!" I mouthed to the ceiling, and I felt relieved tears well up in my eyes. Lala was asleep, safe and sound in his crib.

Of course, that relief only lasted until I realized _I_ was alone.

Refusing to cry, I grabbed some chips from the pantry, and then I sat in the living room—staring at my cell phone.

Gio hadn't called.

I only had a text from Dame, telling me Peto was staying at Sonny's. Figuring as much, since it's hard to tear him away from his cousins, I settled back.

I hoped to fall asleep again, but there was a war going on in my head.

I wanted to call Gio.

I wanted to call my mom…my dad.

I wanted to call Sonny to see where Gio was.

My husband hasn't told me as much, but I know—as I know the sky's blue—that Gio also works for Sonny, doing more than managing the club.

Then again, Sonny wasn't staying out. I bet he's home already.

Still miserable, I put the TV on very low, trying not to get the potato chips soggy with my tears.

I felt pathetic.

Gio doesn't know what I've gone through.

He was home five days after Lala was born? If that.

I remember him being around for weeks after Peto was born.

Now he runs that stupid club.

I know he's gotta work because we gotta eat . . .

I bet a lot of fathers don't even take time off.

When I had to pee, I peed and stared at myself in the mirror.

I was disgusting.

Gio should leave me, find some other chick…

I couldn't believe he left.

Most of all, I couldn't believe myself—that I'd asked him to leave. That I'd "technically" kicked him out.

But he was supposed to apologize.

He was supposed to beg to stay, try harder, fight harder to talk to me.

However, fighting with him…that was the last thing I wanted to do on earth.

So, if he stays gone, that'll suck big time—I'll beat myself up.

If he comes back soon, now that we've both cooled off . . . I'll think I made the right call.

Sure, I'm still pissed he called me lazy.

He's clueless. He thinks I just sit around and do nothing all day.

And he doesn't bother to ask _why _there's no dinner.

Whatta asshole!

_God!_

Angry now—pissed the fuck off again—I stiffened and beat a pillow against the couch, wanting to scream. That's when the tears started once more. I was too weak and tired to keep striking the sofa.

When lights flashed, and I heard car doors slam, I looked out the window.

Gio and his dad were here.

I held myself back from running to the door, trying to redo my ponytail before they walked in. My stomach was in knots, and I prayed to God that neither of them was loud.

Big Aro is always kinda soft-spoken, but Gio's voice can carry. My husband is usually too sweet, so sweet and kind. But lately…?

He was happy when Lala was born, fucking ecstatic. But the whole "where's my dinner?" bullshit…Maybe there have been too many times where there hasn't been dinner recently.

But…

_That motherfucker knows how to cook, too! _

He could have made those steaks…if he had the time to come home.

First of all, he could have told me he was coming home!

More often than not, whenever he surprises me and comes home and I _have_ cooked? I'll have made mac and cheese, frozen pizzas, or nuggets and fries—those easy dishes that my son would rather eat anyway.

It's just Peto and me eating.

And just like earlier, he'd be content eating cereal.

But, mostly, I make us pancakes. He loves Momma-Cakes.

Regardless, I was reminded of all the reasons why I was pissed when they entered the house.

Just the sight of him, and I'd never been sick of the sight of him ever.

He had a big bouquet of flowers, and I couldn't believe he'd think that it'd be gravy.

_Fuck roses. _

I wanted him to leave again, but I couldn't figure out why I wanted him while he was gone.

Truth be told, I just felt horrible—I was miserable—thinking myself an unfit, terrible mother, and I was failing in the wife department, too.

It's one thing if_ I_ think those things, but to have Gio confirm it all?

I didn't think I could feel any worse.

"What are you doin' here?" I cleared my throat.

"I live here." He made the couch dip, sitting next to me.

"How you doin', Shortcake?" Aro came over to kiss my cheek. "You look tired." He stared daggers at his son. "Excuse him. I won't speak _for_ him. I just wanted to make sure—" He continued in Italian, words I didn't understand. Aro spoke to his son. Gio understands, can speak the language, too, but he rarely does.

My husband just nodded, agreeing with his father.

I narrowed my eyes, looking from my husband to his father. "You wanted to make sure that he came home?" I snorted. "You can _take him_ with you."

_The thought of Gio not wanting to come home . . . _

I sobbed into my hands.

"Hey." Aro pinched my cheek.

"Baby…" Gio placed his hand on my hip, trying to give me the flowers. "I'm sorry. So fucking sorry. I had a bad week—nothing's goin' right. I didn't mean to take it out on you." He kissed my cheek, but I was hysterical again.

"You-you have no idea," I cried. "No idea what today was like, what yesterday was like. I haven't slept in God knows how long. My mother hasn't been here." I shook my head.

Aro sighed to my right and turned the lamp on. "Good…you guys are talking. That's all I wanted." He smiled at me. "I wanted to make sure...no one lost their temper." He shrugged, plopping a smooch on my forehead. "I'll let myself out."

Gio waved at his retreating form, and he couldn't even look at me now.

"I know I'm gross." I pulled my legs up. "I haven't had time for anything—let alone cooking." I heard Aro close the door in the distance. "I can't believe you said those things…"

He grabbed my legs to straighten them, rest them across his lap. "Sleep now." Gio rubbed my cheek with his knuckles, meeting my eyes.

That's when I noticed he had a cut lip and a black eye.

"What happened?" I cupped his face.

His brows rose and he looked away from me. "Whatta ya think happens when you cry to Daddy?"

I sucked my teeth and kicked him away. "Just go…and I bet they _made _you come home."

He pulled me into his arms, holding me too tight. "It's not like I got very far." His voice was filled with emotion, which made my anger ebb—albeit slightly. "I walked to Sonny's…Dame and them were there. Figured I'd chill with Peto until you calmed down." He nuzzled his nose to mine. "I love you, Ky…You're mine, my woman, my heart…understand? You're not gettin' rid of me that easily."

Gio chuckled despite the tears in his eyes. "But be straight with me…I'm sorry for what I said. I'm sorry for not…listening, for being busy and not…even asking. I just figured everything was under control." He wiped under my eyes. "You really want me to go? I promise to ask more…to help more. I'll do whatever you tell me. I'll eat out every night, and _you know_ I try to make it home every single chance I have."

"I don't want you to leave," I cried. "I was mad…I couldn't listen to you say those things...the yelling while Lala's crying." I blew out a large breath, trying to compose myself. "I was just so down already...I couldn't listen to more. I know my shortcomings. I know I suck—"

"You don't." He kissed my lips, letting his linger.

I sobbed into his mouth and pulled away. "I can't even…I _want_ to cook for you. I know how hard you work."

"I'm the idiot who didn't realize how hard_ you_ work." He snorted. "Stop crying, baby…" Gio squeezed me again. "I love you so much…Kylie, my whole life I've loved you. There's never been anyone else but you. You know that."

I nodded. "I'm in the same boat."

"Good…so, forgive me for being an idiot." The side of his mouth pulled up. "For the dumb shit I said. I was angry at some other stupid shit...I didn't mean a word I said to you. None of them."

I nestled into his side. "I love you."

"I love you." Gio kissed my hair. "Go to sleep. You go to bed, and I'll stay out here with the monitor. You need rest."

I furrowed my brow. "My dad hit you?"

"Yup…he called around, tracked me down…then I had Dame and Sonny…It doesn't matter. You have three males who love you very much," he grumbled.

"Tell me." I grabbed his hand. "Did Peto see—" I hopped up.

"Shhh." He kissed my cheek. "No…Skip asked me to go out back before he swung at me. He was shouting, telling me everything you'd said to him. Baby, I didn't know…you gotta talk to me, Ky."

I agreed, knowing I lost my pride somewhere on the way to Damion's.

"Your brothers heard—chased me with those yellow plastic bats. It wasn't bad. I might have bruised ribs." He grimaced. "Whatever. I was dumb, deserved it."

"No, you didn't." I hugged him. "I'm sorry they're rotten."

"No, they're not." He chuckled. "There's no beef. Nothin'. Bottom line, you and me hardly fight, and I don't wanna start now."

"Neither do I . . . I hate fighting with you and being angry," I whispered. "But you gotta help me more. I know it's only been nine days since he was born, but you can't just care for Peto 'cause he's easier. I dunno."

"You're right," he said. "Absolutely right. I'm sorry."

I nestled into him again, reveling in his embrace.

"Come on. You gotta go to bed." He lifted me off the couch, going for the stairs.

Gio brought me to our bedroom and eased me onto the bed. "Don't worry about a thing." He tucked the blankets in around me.

I stopped him from leaving. "Now that he seems to be okay, with the new formula, I'll have more time—"

He placed his finger to my lips. "Just do what you do. You're perfect, and I'll pitch in more. I promise." He grinned. "I'm not seventeen anymore, you know? I'm dumb enough to put my foot in my mouth, but I'm smart enough to know—realize what I got, and how fuckin' lucky I am. I'mma do the right thing. I'll also fight tooth and nail to make you smile every day—to remind you why you love me." He placed his lips to mine.

I nibbled on his lip, and he opened his mouth, letting me explore his with my tongue. The contact—Gio—his sweet and sincere words, made me tingle. I'm not healed just yet, so my pussy ached but in an almost good way.

Pulling him on top of me, I pushed his coat from his shoulders.

Gio huffed. "You and your kisses kill me." He touched his forehead to mine. "I know we can't."

I sighed, taking a deep breath. "Hold me 'til I fall asleep?"

Gio smiled, moving to lie next to me. "Fuck yeah." He held me tight.

I hummed, closing my eyes.

**_/=/=/=/=/_**

**_T_**he next morning, I woke up wearing a smile, feeling as though I'd slept for ten years but like I could snooze for another decade, too. My happiness was short-lived. Especially when I realized how quiet it was.

Rushing to get outta bed, I saw that Gio wasn't in the room, and I ran to the nursery. On my way, the doorbell rang, which might have been what'd woken me up in the first place.

I breathed a sigh of relief, seeing Gio—head back and mouth wide open—knocked out in the rocking chair.

"Hey." I practically breathed since Lala was still sleeping.

Gio lifted his head, wincing as he did so. "Morning," he whispered.

I placed my hand on his cheek. "How—"

"He was up _all _night." He widened his eyes as he stood up. "Come on." Gio placed his finger to his lips, ushering me out to close the door. "I had him downstairs most of the night. I didn't wanna…disturb you." He scratched his shoulder.

And my eyes, like they always do, zeroed in on my name—his muscles—the tattoo on his chest. Gio runs hotter, swears he's always hot, even in the dead of winter.

"I'm sorry," I said. "You coulda just woken me up after I got some sleep. I would have been good with about two hours."

He shook his head, leaning to kiss my lips. "How you feelin'?"

"I'm okay." Now that I thought about it, I had to pee, normal morning stuff. Then I remembered. "Someone's at the door."

"What time is it? I finally got Lala back down at around seven-thirty." He looked to his phone. "It's after nine…" He pursed his lips, switching his phone for his nine.

Once he turned away, I berated myself for checking him out.

We can't fuck for another few weeks.

We can't do anything, but I was so appreciative that he let me sleep, my own desire pooled in my belly…

Well, I thought about giving him a blow job, ideas of anal sex floating around.

After I used the bathroom and washed my hands, using the excess water to tame my hair, I went to meet Gio.

He stood in the foyer with my father-in-law and Lisa—his mom and dad.

"Hey!" Aro waved as I ran down the steps. "How you feelin'?"

Embarrassed, hoping I didn't smell, I embraced him—much like I would have my own dad. "Thank you…for last night."

"Just doin' my job, Shortcake." He swayed us from side to side. "How's Little Aro?"

I sniffled, backing up to lean into Gio's side.

"Dude…" My husband had wide eyes, focusing them on the tray in his father's hand. "He was up all night . . . What's that?"

"Oh…" Lisa spoke up, smiling wide, and that made her look even more like my mom—although she dyes her hair red these days. "It's just a tray of lasagna. I figured you could freeze it, or leave it out for tomorrow. You're coming to dinner tonight, right? Bella said she's making stuffed shells and roast beef." She snorted, looking to her husband. "I don't have the time to cook—listen to me, hungry already."

Aro chuckled, planting a kiss in her hair.

"Thanks, guys." Gio nodded.

Lisa palmed my cheek, and then lifted her free hand, which held a bag. "We stopped at the bakery. Fresh rolls."

But I frowned, thinking people might think me the worst. I'm complaining, whining too much like a baby. Now, everyone knows I suck, they pity me…

"What's that face for?" Aro asked, his tone stern.

I smiled, fixing my face. "Thanks…I don't have coffee but I can make some." I backed away toward the kitchen, knowing they don't need an invite to make themselves comfortable.

"We're not staying," Aro said. "I wondered if I could pick up some clothes for Peto. He, I mean, you, uh." He was stuck.

"What's up, Dad?" Gio stared at him.

Aro's eyes went from mine to his son's. "Well, we wanted to take him to the mall…He loves chillin' with Nonno and Grammy…" He trailed off, gesturing to himself and his wife.

Lisa patted his back, grinning, but looking to us expectantly.

Gio chuckled. "Just spit it out."

"Youse never took him to see Santa Claus…with Lala coming so close to Christmas. I know your brother offered to take him when he'd gone with Maggie and the kids...But then you went into labor," Aro explained. "I'll pick him up from Sonny's, and then I'll bring him right home afterward." He shrugged. "Is it really a problem?" He stared at Gio. "I'm his nonno—"

Even if the guilt threatened to eat me alive again, I forced a giggle.

There was no way in hell I'd let Peto miss seeing, meeting, and taking pictures with Santa. "Yeah…of course, you can take him."

Gio's head whipped to me, and I knew what he was thinking—it's Sunday, he's home, and he wanted us all together.

"Things _were_ hectic," I admitted. "I'll call Maggie, ask her to hose him down before you get there." I ran for the stairs again.

After checking on Lala, I tiptoed out of the room, going for Peto's.

In his closet, I grabbed a white button-down shirt and his green v-neck knit sweater. I grabbed his khakis, but they weren't ironed, and I knew he'd be more comfy in jeans.

And let's face it.

Peto could be wearing a potato sack, and he'd still look adorable for pictures.

He's my kid.

I smiled, grabbing for his tan construction boots, knowing he'll look great. Maggie, nor Aro and Lisa, had to worry about his hair. Gio and Peto have short-ish hair, fades, and they go to the barber every two weeks for shape-ups—it's an outing for them.

He just needed a clean face.

I couldn't wait for those pictures.

Before I joined them, I placed a quick call to Maggie, asking her to give Peto a wipe down. She said it'd be no problem, and she was more concerned for me. Worried, my sister-in-law offered to come by later—to give me a break since Sonny's home today.

I declined, thanking her and appreciating her sweet words, hoping Gio didn't have plans.

They were talking in the living room when I went back down. I gave Gio's shoulder a squeeze, knowing I only had a twenty in my purse. "Give him some extra money—I want doubles, triples."

Gio agreed, kissing my knuckles.

I still faced Aro. "I need enough for everyone, and I want—"

Aro put his hand up. "I know the deal. Relax."

"Thanks." I settled down, but I felt a little guilty.

After Christmas, Mom said she'd be teaming up with Lisa to plan the christening—for the middle of January, when Lala will be around six weeks old. Actually, it was Lisa's thing since Mom and Maggie did Peto's, but I know Aro's paying for it all.

Lisa's been Gio's stepmom since he was a toddler. She actually raised him as her own, which is awesome, and I know he's closer to her than he ever was with his mother. That doesn't mean he didn't love Lauren.

Gio—since she's been gone seven years—has confided in me. He thinks she's dead, that there was some foul play his dad was involved in. That Aro made Lauren disappear. I told him that was dumb—not Aro. He'd never, and Gio loves his dad too much, so much, he pushed those thoughts away.

At the end of the day, his own mother was almost a stranger.

He says that Lisa's his mother, although he calls her by her first name. Most of that has to do with AJ and Katie, who were closer to Lauren.

Speaking of, AJ actually stopped by two days ago to drop off some food from the restaurant. Gio wasn't home, but he kept me company, tried to no avail—like all our other visitors—to get his nephew to stop crying.

_We ate all that food, every crumb…blah. I wish Midnight Sun served food, so Gio could come home with some. _

"I have a sweater in the car—" Lisa made to get up "—I forgot to grab it. I bought it for Peto, so he could wear it."

I shrugged. "Whatever." I handed her the bag with his clothes. "The boots are newish," I told her. Knowing my son, I added, "He might complain his feet hurt."

"I'll carry him…if that." Aro smiled. "You worry too much." He used a couch pillow to hit my legs. "You're such a mom."

I giggled, sitting on the side of the recliner.

Alas, as soon as my ass hit it, Lala started to serenade us.


	10. Kylie Chapter 4

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Beta'd by HollettLA**

**Summary: **Young mother Kylie just gave birth to her second child, who just can't stop crying. Dumbfounded and clueless, she tries to no avail to stop his tears while also trying to care for her four-year-old son and her husband, who just doesn't understand…How will she cope?

* * *

**"Clueless"**

**Chapter Four**

**Kylie POV**

I giggled, sitting on the side of the recliner.

Alas, as soon as my ass hit it, Lala started to serenade us.

"Good!" Aro clapped, hopping up when I did. "He's up! I'll get him."

I followed Aro out of the room. "He needs a diaper change. I'll bring him down."

Aro turned to look at his wife. "Let's go. You change him." He jerked a thumb.

"No—"

Lisa chuckled. "It's fine. You get his bottle ready." She squeezed my shoulder, trailing after her husband.

When they were gone, my chin wrinkled and my lip quivered.

Gio was in my face fast, but I tried to cover it up with my palms. "Hey…" He pulled my hands away, not letting me hide. "What's the matter?"

I sniffled, shaking my head. "I never took Peto to see Santa…Now everyone knows I suck." I shrugged. "I love everyone for helping, jumping in and being pushy about it…But, Gio…they probably think I'm horrible."

"That's not true. No one thinks that." My husband wiped my tears away before placing several soft kisses all over my face. "I wish I could throw you down and fuck you."

I barked out a laugh despite my tears. "Oh my God." I held my stomach.

"Bleeding or not, when you cry, baby—you get upset." He bit his lip, gathering me into his arms, his hands grabbing my ass. "The cock makes you feel better."

I cried harder as I nodded.

I've always been what my mom said—a pervert baby mush. And sex, God, Gio-Sex is the best.

After getting married, I learned that—even when we fight, bicker, argue, and I swear I hate him—I don't have to "like" him in order to screw his brains out. I love him all the time, no matter what, but sometimes . . . I mean, we both have our moments.

And Gio's just as much of a perv. If he's angry with me, I hop on him, and he stops bitching. He cheers right up with some Kylie-Poon—Kylie-Sex.

"I-I kno-know." I held back a sob. "I love you."

He groaned, his nose trailing up my neck, his lips ghosting over my jaw until they landed on my mouth.

Gio's kiss was so sloppy, so perfect, my stomach knotted up. He was also just in a pair of basketball shorts, and I felt his hard cock on my stomach.

My hands traveled up to his shoulders, meeting at the nape of his neck, a moan spilling from me.

He sucked a breath in through his teeth, sneaking his hands under my shirt—placing them to the bare skin of my back. The contact gave me a jolt; I pushed my tits into him.

I wished it could be time—that we could have sex.

Maybe years ago, I was more concerned about my weight, and I fully intend on starting Weight Watchers soon. I yearn to get back down to the size I was—the size I was before Peto was born, what took me over a year to get back to. Plus, I gained more weight this pregnancy.

Even so, it's not that big a deal.

Gio loves me.

Hell, the day before Lala was born, I danced for Gio—naked as the day _I _was born—and he went nuts. Huge belly and all.

My stomach is still protruding. It's all jelly-like and yet hard under the surface, although my uterus has gone way down the past two days. My ass is still my ass—my fat pregnancy ass, and my boobs have been tamed a bit since I took those pills to stop producing milk.

But the way my husband was loving on me, you'd never know it.

I'm his—his woman, his Kylie, and he loves me crazy, just like I love him crazy.

Before I realized what he'd done, Gio was placing me down, quick to pin me on the couch. His arms were underneath me and still roaming, his cheek resting to my forehead as he panted. "Christ, baby…You're so soft." He turned to bite my lips, groaning again, which went to my crotch.

"You—" My chest heaved, and I loved feeling his weight on top of me, wanting him to squash me. "We can't. Your parents…"

He paused to listen, and we heard Aro's loud croons, accompanied by his grandson's cries. "We gotta few more minutes."

"No," I whined, trying to push him off. "I forgot—I gotta get his bottle ready." Gio wouldn't move. "I mean it. Move," I said.

"Hey…" He held my chin.

"I forgot," I cried. "You made me forget…I gotta fix his bottle, not make out with you."

He helped me up but refused to let me go. "You still bleeding? I know nothin' can go inside—the drill. But can I get some Kylie-Poon for breakfast?"

My heart skipped a beat. "I…I'm still spotting. Nothing too big yet today, but…it's intermittent." Not to mention the gross, pinkish discharge.

"I can work around that." He's nasty, and I usually love him for it.

His lips met mine again, and I was pinned to the sofa once more.

First off, I hadn't showered in days, so that was a must. Second, my follow-up appointment isn't until Tuesday. I don't know what it looks like down there. The first few days, when it'd burn when I'd pee, I'd squirt the water—take care and do what I had to.

Now…? The poon's not bothering me, and I didn't want to bother it. "What if it's still…ugly?" I knew it would be.

He smirked. "No such thing."

His words made me smile, even if they were crap.

"Um…I gotta shower before we do anything." I shook my head, thinking I'd grab a mirror and check shit out first, too. "How 'bout we start slow? Just…nothing down there." No matter what, I knew it was way too soon.

"PG-13?" he asked.

"Yes." I grasped his hands and placed them on my boobs. "Some material may be inappropriate for children."

"I get Kylie-jugs and a hand job…I dig it." Gio chuckled. "I'll sit with Lala today...you relax, take a long shower, do some Kylie things." He lifted my foot to place it to his chest, his hand riding up to knead my thigh. "My meaty-meats."

"Shut up." I sucked my teeth.

"Lala has your nail beds." He said out of nowhere. "I noticed that. Each of your fingers, your nail beds, matches his. How cool is that?"

I looked to my nails, as I haven't gotten a manicure or acrylic tips since Peto was two. "I can't believe you remember to make the comparison."

"Are you kidding?" His fingers grazed my crotch, like it was an accident, as he massaged my thigh. "I can close my eyes and see any part of your body." He closed his eyes, smiling brightly.

I sighed, staring up to him, and his face fell—his suddenly anguish-filled eyes were searching mine.

"Baby…" He lay on top of me again. "I only left last night because…I know you. I knew you'd want me back—you wouldn't be angry anymore—as soon as I closed the door." He nipped at my chin. "You forgive me?" He was correct, totally on the money.

"You played me?" I whispered.

"You pissed me off—hitting me and throwing shit. It's better I leave than I try and _make_ you listen." He continued to stare into my eyes. "Understand? It hurt, you telling me to leave. Plus, we're gonna be twenty-six this year. It's time we grew up and…fight like adults, talk shit out."

"Yeah…" I could agree to that, a thought hitting me. "Maggie's gonna have four children by the time she's twenty-five."

"I've heard about those Irish broads—same shit they say about Italian chicks. Mad fertile. I bet she looks at Sonny's cock, and kablam!" His eyes widened. "Knocked up."

I giggled. "They have sex every day—twice if he's home." I frowned. "I'm—you know I love gettin' down, but—all the time? They do it _all_ the time. She's got three kids...How does she find the time? We have two, and…_well, we only had one until ten days ago_." We don't have sex every day—not since we were first married—but we do it often enough. I have no complaints.

"Kylie, I'm ready—ready at any time'a day. I'm home, you get at me. You feel me?" He pushed his cock against me. "Any time. Our sheets see a lot of action, too. What? You wanna be like them? Running into every empty bathroom and fuckin' in closets? They do that shit because there's always a kid in their bed," he laughed.

I gasped, remembering something—juicy gossip, and I couldn't believe I forgot to tell him. "Did I tell you? Freakin' Maggie was just doing dishes one night a while back. We were on the phone and then she let out a yelp—this clipped scream of terror. I didn't know what was going on, but then she said, you know. From her kitchen, she can see Dame's kitchen…He was givin' it to Jordan good on the counter."

I snorted. "I wanted the deets, you know? But Maggie's no fun. She crawled out of her kitchen, refusing to look, putting on this innocent act . . . blah. It's not like she has virgin eyes. God knows what the fuck she does with her husband in their bedroom, if they get busy everywhere else. AND, Jordan gave me _all_ the deets that time she saw Sonny and Maggie going at it in the backyard, up against the BBQ—and then they ended up in their pool. Jordan even hid in the bushes for me 'cause she's awesome like that. Fucking Dame watched them that night, too, was in the bushes with Jordan." I shook my head, wishing Maggie spied on Dame.

"Dame wanted to make popcorn and charge their neighbors," I giggled.

I'm not gross, just curious, although Jordan says Damion's a rough, passionate lover but very sweet. The way she described Sonny and Maggie, it just seemed kinky—like nasty and almost beastly, which is awesome, too—if you ask me.

Gio and I have moods. He can be both. My husband can go from being rough and dragging me to the bedroom like a caveman, and then very sensual. The freakiest we get is doing anal stuff, oral sex, 69 . . .

I don't know how else we can do it. I think we've tried everything at this point. But we've never done any role-play, nor have we…tried any fetish stuff? I'm so boring; I don't even know what kind of fetishes are out there.

He'll bury his head in my butt; he loves it. That's "kinky" to Gio. I'd dress up as a fucking alien from Mars if he wanted me to; I'm always game for anything, but he just loves the Kylie-poon, and me—never needs anything fancy.

And, God, I love him.

It felt good to ramble about crap, soothing, like normal—when I used to tell Gio about my day and everyone else's, including my thoughts, those obscure ones I know he won't judge me for.

"That could be fun, us knockin' boots in new places." I smiled. "I wanna do it at Midnight Sun. But we can never do it at my parents' house. It's okay for them—Sonny and Maggie. Baby boy fucks his wife in the bathroom, and Dad gives him a pat on the back."

"He'd kill me," Gio said.

My lip jutted out. "He'd probably try, but I'd never let him."

He rolled his eyes.

"I'm serious. He listens to me sometimes." I thought about how I'd asked Daddy not to hurt Gio and he'd done it anyway. "Sometimes. The big, bad Skip is my daddy. He's wrapped around my finger."

Gio laughed, getting at the Kylie-neck, placing kisses.

I hummed, holding him close.

"Are we interrupting?" Aro asked.

One would think I'd be mortified, but those two—Aro and Lisa—have caught us going at it a million times. Hell, we've caught them, too.

I pushed against Gio's shoulders, and he backed off, grabbing a pillow to hold it, hide the tent in his shorts.

I smiled, leaving the couch to get Lala's bottle ready. He was quiet, but the tears still pooled high on his cheeks, nestled into Lisa's arms. "How'd you get him to stop?"

"Eh…" Aro shrugged; Gio's parents following me into the kitchen. "I made him an offer he couldn't refuse."

"Godfather!" I cackled, placing a bowl with water into the microwave. "Seriously, though?" I needed to know.

"I changed him and then rocked him." Lisa swayed with the baby.

"Right." I still wondered what_ I_ was doing wrong.

"He's good," she said.

"Dame said it might be colic," I explained, which would mean I hadn't done anything wrong. All too quickly, I felt like shit again. I mean, hoping your kid's colicky…hoping for a reason? My child could always just hate me…No. I refused to believe that.

They both blanched hearing the word "colic."

"Oh, hell, Shortcake." Aro squeezed my shoulder.

The doorbell rang, and I actually dropped my head, wondering who else was here to witness my epic fail as a mom.

Lisa didn't say much, but Aro left to get the door. The microwave dinged, and I placed Lala's bottle in the water so it'd warm.

When I lifted my head, I saw my mom rushing to get to me. It alarmed me until she hugged me tight. She'd missed me, and that made me smile. "You okay?" She pushed my hair back, taking in my details—looking me over. As a mother myself, I knew she was just taking stock.

"Yeah." I rasped, refusing to cry.

Mom sighed, relieved as she turned to Lisa. "How is he this morning?"

Lisa smiled wide, coming over to hand Lala to my mother. "You know you're holding back from fighting me for him."

Mom blushed, denying her words, but she took the baby—happily. Lala wasn't that fussy, sucking on his _ciuccio_. Then, without instruction, Mom stole the bottle from the warmer, tested it, and then started to feed Lala.

My mother just knows everything—how to do things, _exactly_ what to do.

She's like a baby whisperer and wise and always calm.

_I hope to God that I'm just like her someday._

Elated that she was here, I felt…a multitude of emotions, too.

I bet she never had to be rescued, like Maggie in that she's a total natural, has the patience of a saint. I was going nuts listening to Lala cry. Plus, with no sleep. Yesterday, I was desperate, scared and frustrated, and my brain stopped working—unable to think.

Well, I can make up all the excuses in the world, but I harbored too much guilt—enough, that when I think about it, it threatens to swallow me whole—because I forgot to feed Peto his lunch.

How could I forget? Every day, we have the same routine. He's not napping as much as he used to, but we have lunch after his nap. He must have woken up starving, probably thinks I love Lala more—for devoting so much time to his brother.

How could I forget…?

_I'm probably going to mommy-hell, where infants cry 24/7 for all eternity._

The thought made my tits hurt.

I bet Mom never forgot to feed us.

Then again, if Mom ever forgot, Sonny would feed us—Damion and me, his firstborns. Nah, I goof but I remember quite a few times when Dad would have us, and he'd be alone, trying to make sure we were all taken care of—fed and clean, and content, trying to help us with our homework.

He heavily relied on Sonny, barking for my big bro to gimme a cookie, check my math, or even gimme a bath.

It's weird, an odd memory to have at this moment, but I remember Sonny used to let me use a lot of bubbles. He'd play with me and make bath time fun. Dame would splash me with the water. I remember Mom used one of those empty and huge, yellow Ricotta cheese containers to scoop water on me to wash my hair.

Damion was so weird, he'd lift it and drink the bathwater—I'd try and pull it away and then let go. It'd splash everywhere, while we laughed, and Sonny would yell, 'cause we'd be getting the bathroom soaked.

Dame and me, we might have been "good" kids. But I know we were a handful, always happy to bust Daddy's balls and make it all the more difficult. Sonny used to get in on it, too—we'd steal Dad's coffee, change the channel when he wasn't looking, make _a lot _of noise, hide somewhere, or just whine for our mother.

_He'd try his hardest not to chain us to trees in the backyard._

Sonny would tell us when it'd be enough, when to stop, before Dad lost it or turned into the Hulk.

_No one likes the Skip when he's mad . . ._

Mom and I are lucky to have Dad, Sonny, and Damion. When I was younger, I couldn't stand it—them being so macho, overbearing, and always in my business. Hey, if I couldn't take a deep breath, I knew Mom couldn't. She's like…the Virgin Mary to Sonny and Dame; they worship her, the ground she walks on. They'd die and kill for her, and I know that applies to me, too.

Dad…? There's no limit to what he'd do for us, his ladies—all of us in general.

I'm lucky to have them, my family.

"We're going to take Peto to see Santa," Lisa said.

"Oh…" Mom looked like she didn't know what to do, leaning into me with her arms full. "Get my wallet out my purse. I want my own—"

I giggled. "Aro's getting copies."

"Thanks." Mom kissed Lisa's cheek, but she whipped back to me. "You gave her clothes for Peto? Nice clothes?"

"Yes." My eyes widened.

"Hey, I'm just making sure." She bumped her hip to mine, smiling. "I know Sonny and Maggie took the kids to see Santa. But Dame might not have taken Izzy—"

"They took her yesterday," I said, vaguely remembering the Polaroid on their fridge. And I didn't comment when they'd only come back with the one picture. I hope my brother and Jordan know Na-Na's jacking that shit. Mom'll probably steal it next time she's there. No shame.

Mom leaned back against the counter. "Knowing Dame, he just got the one pic." The wheels were turning in that head already; I saw her face.

"You're such a schemer," I teased.

"Psst…oh well." She didn't elaborate.

"We'll go." Lisa kissed Mom's cheek and then mine. "You call if anything. Okay?"

I nodded. "Thanks…and thanks for the food."

She waved, leaving the kitchen.

Mom sighed when she was gone, getting closer to me. I thought she was gonna talk smack, gossip about Lisa so I got excited, but all she did was ask, "How are you doin' this morning?" Eh, she doesn't usually talk crap about her half-sister; I just like gossip. It keeps me going, fuels me, gives me strength.

I shrugged. "After some sleep…I do feel better. But I still feel gross." Even if the deodorant I bagged from Dame did the trick, I still smelled like…old sweat, baby vomit, and…just funky. I don't know.

Mom beamed. "We're fine here. You can go take a shower." She adjusted Lala, perching him on her shoulder to burp him. He started to cry again, fussy, but Mom giggled. "Oh, listen to you…" She continued to burp him. "You're causing all this trouble already." Her voice was real soothing, even to me as an adult. It was carefree and enthusiastic, almost a croon. "You need to give Na-Na a burpy, Mr. Fussy Pants." She rubbed his back in between pats. "You gotta finish your ba-ba, too."

A pretty decent belch sounded in the air.

"Damn." I snickered, smiling, proud of my baby. "That was a good one."

Mom cradled him close to rock him. "He's precious. He looks more like you—when you were a baby." Peto looks just like Gio, always has. "The same eyes and mouth."

"Gio said he has my nail beds." I looked to my nails again.

Mom adjusted him and gave him his bottle, gazing at his tiny fingers. "Yeah…he does."

I stared, looking back and forth, and I understood what Gio and Mom meant. I could see the similarity of our fingernails.

"All he's done is cry since we brought him home," I whispered. "I haven't even had the time to just…enjoy being his mom." I wasn't sure if that made sense. "I love him…" My lip quivered. "I've loved him since I found out I was pregnant—more when he was born. That all-consuming feeling, like when I had Peto. I just—I don't know." I didn't know how to explain, knowing that by my complaining, it might sound like I don't love my child, when I love him more than words could express.

"You're trying. You've been trying your best." Mom met my gaze. "What have I always said? As long as you try your best…it's okay, and asking for help is never a bad thing."

I leaned my head to her bicep. "Did Daddy tell you? I forgot to feed Peto."

She laughed, but I didn't know why that was funny. "Kylie…Baby girl, he told you when he was hungry, right? Don't beat yourself up. Honestly, after Dame was born…Dad would be out late, sleeping right through his cries. He'd never notice anything amiss."

She rolled her eyes. "Do you know…I used to forget to take Sonny to school? It was only Pre-K, but getting your brothers up in the morning—giving Sonny breakfast, getting to Dame before he wailed, changing diapers, making Dame a bottle, making sure Sonny brushed his teeth, was wearing clean clothes...I'd get him _ready_ for school."

Mom chuckled some more. "Then I'd wake up your dad, and he'd race to get Sonny to school…He'd be an hour late, and a few days I didn't even bother. When you were born, things had slowed down. I knew a lot more, and I had more time since Dame and Sonny weren't as needy. They were four and eight and both in school."

My mother seemed lost in memory, a smile on her lips. "Geez. When I had Sonny? Forget about it. I knew _nothing_, and I worried about _everything_. I used to sit in the nursery and watch Sonny breathe 'cause I was paranoid."

"That poor child." She tsked, only to snort. "It was trial and error, and your great-grandma, Nanny Josie, helped me out a lot with Sonny. She had her own children, raised your father, and she just knew everything. Even though I loved her, I used to hate her—be jealous. She could calm Sonny down, be calm herself, and I'd be ready to pull my hair out. God, I miss her. I wish you could have known her. She died when you were two." Mom frowned. "She adored you."

I smiled. "I would have…" Suddenly I was in tears again, covering my face to sob into my hands. "I love you…I love everyone, my family, and I feel like such a failure." A loud cry escaped, and I had to calm down, but I didn't know how.

"Let it out," Mom whispered, patting my back. "Just let it all out. A good cry, and it's okay to cry…You're choke-full of hormones right now."

I grabbed a dishrag to mop up my tears, these ugly wails making my body rock.

And I couldn't understand.

Maybe I just felt too much. Too many emotions from both sides of the spectrum. The happiness of being a mother again—feeling all the love—being overshadowed by my guilt and shortcomings.

"This-this is sup-supposed to be a happy time." I tried to compose myself, and it didn't work. "Plus, I used to be such a whiny, bratty shit to you and Dad." I wiped my eyes, my cries getting caught in my throat. "If-If I knew then, wh-what I know now…" I sucked a shaky breath back, which made my body tremble.

Mom had tears in her eyes, but she was smiling. "You were wonderful, always our pervert baby mush. You just didn't like the word 'no.' Dad used to spoil you—his princess. But I can tell you now…that 'If I knew then what I know now' feeling…Baby, you're going to feel that way so many more times. But you gotta experience life. You live, and you learn. I bet you'll tell Peto and Little Aro the same things I've always told you years down the line."

She shrugged, sniffling. "Some things are easier and harder than others, but I know you'll get through it. I know. I know how strong, how brave, how smart you are. And you're always going to worry. You're always going to second-guess, feel guilty when you screw up, but it happens. Peto's not starving. You were late giving him lunch. Relax." She blew out a breath.

"Don't cry…." I sobbed. "I'm sorry, Momma. I love you."

She giggled through her tears, placing an arm around me, holding Lala and me. "I love you, too."

"I love him…so much." I kissed his hand, as he sucked down the last of his bottle. "I, like, resented him or something last night, wishing things were simpler. I always swore I was grown, and last night I wished I was still a kid."

"You are—technically and in _my_ eyes—still a kid. And now you have two kids." She kissed my forehead. "You were frustrated, but that doesn't mean anything. Only God knew you'd give birth to a baby with colic. Nanny used to say that God only gives us what we can handle. I worry…I hope you don't get depressed; meanwhile, you've been doing fantastic. You hit your breaking point yesterday, and some women…I don't wanna get into the horror stories, how some women snap—try to get their kids to stop crying by any means. Everyone's different, but bad things…real bad things can come from a situation like you were in. I only wished you'd told me a lot sooner. It's okay to ask for help."

That started a new round of tears for me.

Mom stared to the ceiling. "I never wanted my life for you—two kids so young, married young. I never regretted a thing. I love your father…too fucking much. I'd do it all over again, all over, and I wouldn't change a thing. Before I met your father, I wanted so many things…Having a baby…I wasn't against the idea, but it scared me. I wanted to finish school, be successful, travel the world…" she laughed.

"The next thing I know, I fell head over heels in love. We were married _a second_ later. We tried for Sonny, thinking like young people do." She smiled wide. "We tried and tried, and I couldn't get pregnant fast enough. Meanwhile, there really wasn't a rush, and we didn't have to wait that long. And as a mom, well…I always wanted better for my kids. Dad, too. Especially knowing the struggles I'd gone through—that I learned from. I'm no expert. There's no going to college to take courses about being a mom."

She snorted. "You guys didn't come with a book of instructions. You learn by doing, accepting, trying, and understanding. It took me a while to realize that settling down isn't necessarily _settling_."

Mom searched my eyes. "Not when you find your love—your soul mate. People can be as successful as the next, the most wealthy, but if they don't have love…they don't have anything. I was…empty, a nothing person, before I met your dad."

I nodded, and I didn't know what to reply with.

With tears still falling, no matter how hard I tried to stop, I blew my nose on the dishrag.

Mom blew out a breath. "Basically, it took a few years for me to learn—to accept—that as long as you guys are happy, I shouldn't want or ask for more. I don't regret my life, but I never wanted it for you, is what I'm saying. Trust me; I know how difficult being a mom is," she sighed. "It's the hardest job in the world. Harder than…than, I don't know, thermodynamics and metaphysics."

"I don't know what those are," I cried. "Oh…"

My emotions were getting the best of me, and I knew that.

But Mom told me twice more to "Get it out."

I tried my best to get it all out, not hold back, release the tears before they snuck up on me.

"What's going on in here?" Dad and Gio ran in, and I didn't even know Dad was here, too. "Yo, what'd you do now?" He yoked up my husband, slamming him back into the wall—his hands around Gio's neck. "You don't make her cry, understand?"

"Dad!"

"Edward!" Mom shouted.

Lala started screaming again.

"Oh…" I tried to soothe him. "We're loud…You gotta get used to that, Little Aro."

Dad backed off while my husband stared to the ceiling, and Lala stopped crying.

I stared at my son, still paying attention to the other males in the room. All while I wondered if Lala was faking. There's no such thing as a baby as young doing such a thing. But…I don't know. I'll find out tomorrow what's really wrong. I hope any tests they do aren't too extensive. Maybe he was allergic to the formula? Maybe he's colicky, too? I still had no idea. And although he's still crying a lot, he's not doing the marathon screaming he'd been doing. He actually slept for more than an hour, too. That was almost the most worrisome. Infants need their sleep. A lot of it.

"I'm sorry," my father whispered.

Gio was taken aback. "For real?"

Dad nodded, gesturing to me. "Yeah…my bad."

Gio laughed, opening his arms to wrap them around my father. "It's cool."

Daddy was smiling, hugging him tight, before he patted Gio's back. "Do I get to hold him?"

"I hope you're talkin' about your grandson," Mom giggled.

Dad pushed Gio away. "Who else?" he spoke with his hands, coming over to hug me. "My Kylie…did you get sleep?"

I rested my head on his chest. "Yeah…Gio let me sleep all night. He stayed with Lala."

"Good man." He gave Gio a chin jerk, leaning away from me. "We need to work on a new nickname. I mean, Lala? I get it. Those are his initials, but…" He showed me his palms. "A kid—a boy called Lala's gonna get his ass kicked."

"Not one of Na-Na's babies." Mom had an attitude and screw neck now. "I don't think so."

I agreed with her. "I'd probably go to jail, but I'd kill some…asshole, bully, little motherfucker if they touched my son!" I'd gotten worked up, angry now. "When Peto fights with his cousins—they're his cousins. He's close to Little Sonny and Eddie, like they're siblings, and they don't really mean to hurt him . . . that's okay. And there's nothing wrong with him being called Lala. I love it. 'Aro' is already a nickname…he's called 'little' because of his nonno." I wiped tears from my cheeks again.

_Fucking hormones!_

"Fuck." Dad scoffed. "Fucking Artaro. You better hope they call him 'Aro', or his middle name in school. Xavier's not too bad. But I'm wit'chu—down, however we handle it." He gave me a high five. "How 'bout Ax?" He quirked a brow. "His first two initials…? Pop-Pop's littlest bruiser—Ax, the baddest muv'fucka in Bay Ridge." He pursed his lips, staring down to Lala, or Ax now. "He looks like Kylie…my baby girl." He smiled at me.

"Right?" Mom laughed, rocking him.

"He looks just like Kylie…He's gorgeous." My husband actually had stars in his eyes, grabbing the coffee pot. "There's rolls…" He flicked the paper bag Aro and Lisa brought. "Butter and cream cheese in the fridge."

"Nice." Dad like…attacked the bag, and then he took out a roll to squeeze it. "They're fresh."

Mom shook her head at him. "Come hold Lala before Kylie puts him back down."

Dad did a little dance as he walked over to Mom, and the baby hog gave him up, placed him in my father's arms. "Ahhhh!" Dad sniffed his forehead, taking a deep breath from his nose. "You can smell the youth," he told my mother.

Her smile reached her ears. "You want a buttered roll?" But she's Mom, always down to play her "role," always happy just to…serve, forever taking care of everyone. Especially Dad.

"I'll do it," I offered, wanting to at least be helpful—a good host even if they're technically not guests.

Gio stole the butter from me. "He's okay now. Why don't you go take a long shower?"

"Oh…" I pushed my hair behind my ears, turning to my parents. I didn't want them to leave, shower and miss any time with them.

"We'll be here when you're done. We won't leave without saying goodbye." Mom's voice was soft—she probably knew the waterworks could start at any moment. I appreciated it.

"Pop-Pop'll put him to bed." Dad made to leave the kitchen.

"I'll be back soon." I rose to my toes to peck my husband's lips.

Then I hurried to catch up to my dad.

He'd just made it to the rocking chair, letting out a sigh as he sat down. "I'm okay…I've done this a million times."

"I know." Whenever Maggie has a new kid, my father will sneak over around bedtime—to steal his bruisers for a bit. He did the same with Peto, although—since Mom and Izzy were always with us, Peto and me—he'd see a lot of us all. Dad wouldn't wanna step on toes, coming over too often. And Maggie would never tell the man he came over too much; he'd relieve her, give Maggie a break.

I love my best friend, my sister-in-law, but I hate how easy she makes everything look. She's fierce; don't get me wrong. She's so not the meek schoolgirl Sonny fell in love with anymore. She's a woman, a mom, and she thinks her badass kids are angels. Especially when she gets called to the school, she defends them. But she has a lot of patience. A lot of shit just doesn't bother her—that unimportant stuff that might get on people's nerves.

Jordan and I goof on her all the time, calling her a freak of nature, but it's cool.

We love each other, and I know when they get together they talk smack—goof on me, too. I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed, the brightest crayon in the box, and I'm immature, silly in nature. I talk way too much. I'm random and I ramble, blah, blah.

The same as Maggie and I talk about Jordan, the control freak, perfectionist.

Sometimes Jordan can be very dry, easily misunderstood, not reacting how normal people would in certain situations. She never gets that emotional about things, almost too logical, which makes her seem like a robot; meanwhile, she complements my goober of a brother well.

She shines around Dame, and they are best friends—really and truly. There's nothing she's ever been afraid to tell him, crazy honest with Damion about anything and everything.

I was surprised when she said she'd be quitting her staff position at NYU. There's nothing wrong with being a stay-at-home mom. I love what I do; I just thought being a doctor was important, had the same level of importance as being a mother to her. Apparently, medicine—no matter how much she loves it, has strived for it—doesn't compare. She achieved her goals, but circumstances have changed.

Jordan knows this, because I've told her, but others have always thought I was so down to watch Izzy because they were paying me.

That's far from it, actually. The extra money was awesome; don't get me wrong, but I thought what she was doing was so cool. Mom, too.

Jordan's like my mother's idol—having a career and being a mom, doing both, which is most commendable. Mom wanted to see a Cullen woman strive for greatness, success. Proud that she was doing both, able to do both.

_Yes, Mom has claimed Jordan as her own._

My mother asked her recently, stating that it must have felt like _Sophie's Choice_—which is some old movie I've never seen—but Jordan declined. It really wasn't that hard to choose to take time off. Sure, she's young in her career, but she finished her residency—got to the point where she could stop, and it'll always be there when she decides to go back.

Jordan wants to take a year off, maybe more, when she has the baby, and then join a practice—be affiliated with a local hospital, but not on full-time as a staff member, which will ensure she'll only be part-time.

My mother can't make up her mind, was even more proud when Jordan decided she was taking time off.

I just want them to be happy.

And asking Dame for the babysitting gig when Izzy was born . . . I knew it'd ease Jordan's conscience in some ways.

I might not be crazy smart, but I know people, and I wanted to help.

Nowadays, she comes out of her shell since she's comfortable around us, and she can be such a kid when she's around Damion—funny and shit. She's bossy, too.

I love it when she tells Dame what to do, and he does it with a smile.

They're adorable.

Nonetheless, in all circumstances, we're never too catty and/or mean when we talk about each other. They're my sisters, the sisters I never had growing up, and I love them crazy.

"He's asleep," Dad whispered.

I'd zoned out, staring at the floor while relaxing back against the crib. I moved when Dad placed him down. Silently, we left the nursery, but Dad gave me another hug after closing the door.

"Whew…you do need a bath." He bit my nose.

I swatted him away, giggling. "Shut up."

"I'm kidding." He gave me a nudge. "But go…wash your ass and relax."

I grabbed his hand to squeeze it, and that's when I noticed his knuckles were pink and raw.

And that's when I slapped his bicep, hard.

"Owww," he whispered. "You workin' out? What's wrong wit'chu?"

"Don't beat on my husband." I shook my finger.

Dad shrugged, clapping once. "Hey, he makes you cry . . . I don't give a fuck. That's the way it is." He showed me his fist. "He fucks up, he gets it. Everybody needs a beatin' sometimes."

"_Goodfellas_," I giggled.

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**Thank you for reading.**

**I hope you guys enjoyed it.**

**Sonny's outtake is next, which takes place around seven months after this. It'll be broken up into multiple chapters 'cause it's just as long as Damion's.**


	11. Santino Chapter 1

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

**There's no summary for this one. I never wrote one. Oh well. There's obviously a time gap between Kylie and Sonny POVs - about 7 months.**

**Also, our favorite wiseguys from Las Vegas make appearances in these first few chapters - the Maisano family from Cara's Grand Series! For those you who haven't read Grand Tale, Grand Vendetta, or Grand Finale...The Maisanos were featured in a couple of chapters in "Riders on the Storm." ****Anthony Maisano (I LOVE HIM!) and his son Nicky came to visit NY, when there was a party for Edward Sr. at Eclipse. Then, Nicky Maisano was in the Las Vegas chapters, when Aro and Skip popped Heidi. Remember?**

**Enjoy :-) **

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**"Back in the Saddle"**

**Chapter One**

**Sonny/Santino POV**

_**I**_t was no surprise when Nicky Maisano got down on one knee and asked Carli to marry him.

She said yes, which wasn't a surprise, either.

While we convened at my parents' for an early dinner with our distant "relatives"—the Maisanos from Las Vegas—everyone wore a smile.

My cousin, Carli, was a starry-eyed mess.

Months ago, at her brother's wedding—Ant's wedding—Carli left the reception with Nicky Maisano. My brother noticed, as did a few others, and no one cared. Especially not Dame and me. I mean, I thought they were sneaking off to a hotel. My cousin likes sex, but I wouldn't exactly call her a ho.

I don't know. She could never seem to keep a man. She'd either get sick of them, or they wouldn't stick around. I thought being single was her thing. Carli always seemed happy, and even happier when she moved to Manhattan.

But then my father got a call from Anthony Maisano.

Carli had gone back to Vegas with Nicky, and she stayed for a couple of weeks.

My cousin's gonna be thirty-one years old, and she's obviously not married, nor has she ever been.

No one gave a fuck, but Maisano reaching out to my father was the right thing to do . . . since it's still 1912 and all.

Uncle Carlisle is over the moon, happy about them being together. It'll be another match made in heaven—a union that would bring with it a great many things—including bringing our two families together.

Anyway, my parents' house was filled to the brim with people.

I actually couldn't wait to get out of there.

The dinner was sudden. Maggie and our kids weren't there. Dame and Jordan didn't come. Kylie and Gio came through with my nephews, but they took off early 'cause Gio's gotta work.

As far as I know, Jordan and Maggie are chillin' with the kids near my pool, and I bet Gio drops Kylie and the boys off at my place before going to Midnight Sun.

When I'd called, I didn't put too much pressure on my wife. She's nine months pregnant with our fourth baby, and I didn't expect her to get the kids washed, dressed, and presentable before Mom served dessert.

My wife had already played her part, too. Yesterday, she hosted a lunch at our crib for Maisano's wife, Gabby. My mother, Carli, Kylie, Jordan, Hanna, Alex…all the women were at my house while my father and I took my boys to the batting cages. Aro, Gio, and Little Peto came, too. An hour later, our simple outing turned into something bigger. My uncle showed up with Maisano and Nicky, and we all had a pretty good time.

I wished I could head straight home tonight, but I couldn't.

We were all heading out to Eclipse—the men, anyway—so Dad and Maisano can hammer out more details.

They spoke in hushed whispers with my uncle while we were in the limo—on our way there. I honestly didn't mind that Dad took care of business. Maisano knows me, has done business with me in the past, but he felt more comfortable handling shit with my father.

I'd brokered the whole deal with Boston, hooking Ant up with his wife. That was a mess, and a pain in the ass. Unlike our bullshit alliances with Jersey, Philly, and even Chicago—Boston…? We've never truly had beef with them before. Ironically, back in the day, when a group from Boston had come to New York, we _did_ have a problem.

After _another_ dude named Nicky had gotten out of line, whatever, his boss wanted no part in it.

He didn't give a flying fuck and practically served that dude to us on a platter.

They didn't want a conflict with us, but they didn't necessarily want to be our "friends" either.

Dame had handled the hit.

Shit calmed down, and we've had no problems since. We allow them to venture into New York—within reason—for business purposes, and we always get a piece. They're cool, hardcore, but they truly never had anything we'd wanted.

An alliance wasn't necessary.

We'd always been able to be amicable—dealing with this or that—until I took Ant up there with me last year.

Now, they had something _my cousin_ wanted.

Anthony's gay, no bones about it, but he met Vincenza, and he wanted her.

I was dumbfounded at first, but Vincenza's father was all over it. So far, Boston hasn't asked for anything big…yet. It's only a matter of time. Usually, when shit like this is conducted, business deals are made—both families profit.

The reason I'd gone out there in the first place was because Giuseppe—the boss, who they call Papa Joe—reached out to me. Their numbers aren't what they used to be. Supposedly, the Irish and the Russians are moving in on them. They saw potential problems and realized they couldn't deal with both groups by themselves.

I was reluctant to go out there since I knew what was going on already.

And I didn't give a fuck.

But _I had to go_ to Boston. I didn't have a choice. If I'd denied Giuseppe, we'd automatically have problems.

Beef with them wasn't something I worried about either.

Again, I didn't give a fuck, knowing they couldn't hurt us.

_At first, my father told Papa Joe to shit in his hat—put up or shut up, what the fuck were they gonna give us for our help? _

However,_ I_ try not to burn bridges.

Ant's crew would bear that burden—a few New York guys stomping around Boston. My cousin and his crew head up there at least once a month. They lend hands when they're needed.

Besides maybe the ports in Boston, they still have nothing we could profit from. I tried to no avail to figure that one out, how interstate commerce with them could benefit us.

They have the same shit we do—clubs, sports books, bookies, shylocks, money laundering, their own dealers, and so on and so on.

My cousin gained his dumbass wife from Boston.

That's it.

And now Ant has to deal with those assholes.

I won't budge an inch.

Unless one hand washes the other, and we make some money—actual money—they're not allowed to migrate south.

Now, Carli marrying Nicky Maisano…?

_The possibilities were endless. _

Still on our way to the club, Nicky was pretty quiet, and my little cousin Eddie, who's not little anymore, buzzed in his seat next to me. He's twenty-three and in his first year of law school. This was his first time riding with the big boys, I guess, although I know it's his first time at Eclipse.

Dame, Ant, AJ, Gio, and me…Fuck, we'd all come here for our eighteenth birthdays and again for our twenty-firsts.

As enthusiastic as he was, I was surprised he hadn't tagged along sooner or just fucking stopped by.

Again, he's twenty-three, and his money's green.

I tried to ignore him.

Because he's an immature, pussy-crazed idiot, but I digress.

Nicky's going back to Vegas with his parents tomorrow to tie up some loose ends. He'll be moving to New York in just a few weeks, and I didn't know how I felt about that yet.

That was Carlisle's only stipulation; he didn't want his daughter moving across the country.

Nicky's got his button, is a made guy, and he's a nice person. I just don't know him very well, and he's my newest capo—plans to open his own nightclub in Manhattan.

Essentially, by his joining our family, we'd be making bucket loads more money. He'll bring a new business, and that also meant we'd get our hands on more shit in Vegas.

Now that shit was exciting.

_I fucking love Las Vegas. _

Granted, I haven't been back since Maggie and I got married, but there are many opportunities to make money over there.

I've been in the game a long time. Sure, when I was a little shit on Aro's crew, gathering tribute and scheming for a buck was a pain. But I've come in to my own.

The past seven years have been amazing—money-wise, too—and I was tired of the petty tit garbage that's Eclipse.

Eclipse isn't even mine. I'd acquired it when my father wanted me to set up shop someplace. Initially, that was my intention when I bought the brokerage, but Eclipse is some kind of landmark for wiseguys.

Establishing some shit in Vegas might take me farther from the things I'm doing now, but…

What if I invested my money into a casino?

A hotel?

New developments pop up all the time out there.

They have land…I could build something, which would mean more of my money could be made by legal means.

"Oh, did I show you this?" Nicky smiled, leaning to show me his phone. "I took Carli to the Grand Canyon."

"Cool." I furrowed my brow.

"Look, there she is with my grandparents." Carli was standing in the desert with Nicky's grandparents.

"Nice." I smiled.

"Oh, I wanna go out to Vegas so bad," Little Ed said. "Fuckin' Sin City, the sex industry…?" He stared at Nicky. "Why do you wanna move here, bro? New York is fuckin' boring."

Before my cousin could carry on, curiosity got the best of me. I placed my hand on Nicky's forearm. "There any money in that?"

He sighed. "We got…clubs like Eclipse. We deal with some madams and pimps, which is nasty business," he whispered. "No _real_ money in it…just nickel and dime shit, like protection money." Nicky turned to my cousin. "Strip hos don't hand out freebies…You gotta pay for that shit. You should find yourself a nice girl who's willing to give up the goods."

I snorted, looking out the window.

"Nah…'Cause then…" Little Ed seemed at a loss for words. "I don't wanna get married."

Nicky nudged my elbow. "You remember thinkin' like that? Being young and…stupid."

"A cooz-hound," I laughed, slapping my hand to his.

"Hey!" Li'l Ed got mad.

I sighed while we pulled up to the curb.

But then my cousin pushed me out of the way to run for the club.

"Yo!" Uncle Carlisle shouted out to him.

"That little motherfucker," Dad laughed. "He's just like you were."

Uncle Carlisle didn't comment.

"Eh…you haven't really changed, but you try," Dad teased, crooning and holding Carlisle's chin. "You fuckin' ho."

"You were like that, Baby Skip." Maisano smirked at my father. "You even remember that?" I had no idea what the fuck he was talking about. "You was just a li'l shit."

But Dad evidently knew, and he chuckled. "Yeah, I remember," he agreed and bumped fists with Maisano. "Damn…that was a long time ago."

"Oh! I remember that—when youse visited the first time." Carlisle nodded.

Maisano gave my uncle a wry grin. "But you're not fourteen, so what's your excuse?"

Dad thought that was fucking hilarious for some reason.

"Fuck you." My uncle guffawed, and they trailed into the club.

To be polite, because my father…has no manners, I waited for Nicky and Maisano before I went for the door. They're both kinda quiet and reserved. The glitz and glam of Eclipse didn't faze them, and I'd bet they had clubs twice the size and much nicer in their neck of the woods.

There were barely any people here since it was early.

Aro sat at a booth toward the back with a couple of guys, and I escorted Nicky and Maisano their way. Introductions were needed, so our friends knew they were friends of ours.

Then I excused myself to join my father, uncle, and my cousin again. They had shots lined up on the bar. After all, this was some kind of…rite of passage for Little Ed?

Carlisle tsked, tapping Li'l Ed's hand when he went for a shot glass. "Not yet." He playfully slapped his son's cheek. "There are rules."

Dad nodded, chuckling and downing a shot.

"Rules?" My cousin faced me.

I shrugged, leaning back near Dad. "What are these rules?" I asked my uncle.

Carlisle widened his arms. "What happens at Eclipse…?"

"Stays at Eclipse." I finished for him.

"Right." My cousin's eyes were bright, but that little motherfucker had no idea.

And I wondered how hard my uncle planned to party tonight with his son here.

"Yo, get him a lap dance and…" Dad trailed off, raising a brow at his brother—a silent warning that he should behave himself.

"He'll be cool." Carlisle placed his arm around his son. "You ready, kid?"

"I was born ready!" Ed was enthusiastic.

Dad and I watched them head closer to the stage. "Fifty bucks says Li'l Ed clocks that motherfucker before eight p.m."

"I dunno." I was honest.

"I'll swing the odds in my favor." Dad pointed to himself, and that sounded like a challenge. "I'll talk about Alex—his mother." My father never misses an opportunity to screw with—punk—his brother.

I rolled my eyes. "I doubt Carlisle's gonna…step outta line."

There's a certain level of understanding between Carlisle and his eldest, Anthony. I know Ant hates the shit his father does, but they have a deal.

While my uncle accepted and encouraged Anthony to come out of the closet—after he got a fucking clue—Carlisle urged his eldest son to accept the things my uncle couldn't change about himself.

Also, when Ant got his button, he had no choice but to turn the other cheek—and leave his old lifestyle behind. No one made him do that. He must have wanted his stripes more than cock. I don't know.

But Li'l Eddie is a different person. It's like he wears rose-colored glasses, and while he's a momma's boy…I just don't think he truly gives a fuck.

Dad felt along my ear. "Look, my hand's dry—you're not wet behind the ears."

"All right." I smiled. "Fifty bucks…says Ed's down with it. They party, have a good time, and…he'll probably be here tomorrow." It's not like Carlisle's gonna let some skank suck him off in front of his son. If he never did that around Anthony, I can't see him being that free around Li'l Eddie.

Then something dawned on me. "Is he here for_ another_ reason?" From what I'd heard, Carlisle had originally been trying to keep Li'l Ed away from Eclipse because he didn't want him involved—all of it or none of it, those are the rules.

"Well…" Dad gazed at his shoes. "Carlisle drops dead, that's your new legal counsel."

"Fuck that," I spat.

Dad knit his brows together. "He's always been weird. No respect, but he's smart—a nerdy little fucker just like my brother."

"Little Eddie?" I asked.

"I said legal counsel. You don't gotta put him on a crew. Christ. Imagine? It'd be like…Mr. Magoo in the 'hood or something . . . Nah, fucking Forest Gump!" He cackled.

"You think your uncle was always down?" He quirked a brow. "He didn't get his button until he was like…twenty-seven. When Carlisle was younger, he was an idiot savant—more idiot than savant but still smart. He just had no common sense when it came to _this thing_..." Dad showed me his palms. "Pussy would always cloud his judgment, but he knew his shit, was second in his class at law school, and he had a good head for business. That Ivy League motherfucker."

I didn't say anything.

"There are some people born to do what _we_ do." He gestured between us. "Others, they have to be groomed." He walked away from me. Then he came back toward me to grab his forgotten drink. "But that doesn't mean anything. You want the law firm? Take the fuckin' bar exam…lazy motherfucker," Dad mumbled, leaving me again.

I just waited 'cause I knew he'd be back, and I was right. He whipped around to face me once more. "I didn't mean to call you lazy."

I nodded, accepting that, but I didn't give a fuck—wasn't offended anyway.

"I thought Nicky was gay," he whispered.

Confused, I shook my head.

"Last time they came through…" Dad waved a hand. "He was chillin' with Ant."

"Like…chillin' or _chillin'_?" I asked.

He scrunched his nose. "I didn't see your cousin suck his dick or anything…"

I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying not to laugh. "I don't think so…I mean, even when Ant used to…you know, he'd never share his business with associates."

"Carli's old." He kept his voice hushed. "Even Ant had enough sense to grab a hot, young chick. I love my niece—don't get me wrong. She's gorgeous and all…but she's thirty-one. Maybe she's knocked up?"

"She's not old," I disagreed. "She's younger than me."

"But she's, you know, getting hitched _now_."

"It's not the Middle Ages anymore, where middle-aged was like…twenty-five." I patted his back. "I think they just connected, fell in love."

Dad still seemed torn. "You think it's really that cut-and-dried? Maisano…he's really not asking for much. He's more worried about how his son'll be treated here—rolling out the red carpet for me." He pointed to himself.

"Carli would know," I said. "Trust me."

"Oh, yeah…she's a pig. She'd know." He nodded. "You know what? Maybe I wasn't as good a dad as Carlisle, but my children aren't nearly as fucked-up. Youse all had your moments—"

"Who said he was better?" I asked. My uncle has always been my friend, not necessarily my uncle, and I have no idea how he'd fathered his kids. "How are they fucked-up?" My cousins—hell, everyone in this family has quirks.

"He's all sensitive and shit. I always told'youse how it was."

"You still spoil Kylie, treat her like she's twelve, and she's got two kids," I said. "And, Damion…forget about it. You were sensitive." As a parent, I could understand, too. "You were what we needed—different with all of us because we were all different."

He stared at me. "Did I hug you enough? Not them. You?"

I widened my arms. "What? Where is this coming from?"

Dad wrapped his arms around me because he's a fucking weirdo. If he wanted a hug, he could have asked, or just fucking hugged me. "All right. Good talk. Make Nicky feel welcome." He walked toward the back again.

Before I joined them, I instructed the bartender to bring a few bottles over—ice, glasses, the works.

Dad, Aro, and Maisano had no interest in socializing. They disappeared into the office, and I had a responsibility to make Nicky feel comfortable. That was my job, but the poor guy seemed stiff, like he didn't know how to act.

I found it odd since, like I thought earlier, he's familiar with this setting.

"Pick your poison," I told him. "Help yourself." I gestured to the bottles.

He grabbed the Jack Daniel's to pour some into a glass.

"JD," I commented, topping off my own. "You all right?"

Nicky nodded, eyes on his glass, and I could take a guess as to why he's uncomfortable. No doubt, his father told him not to be the slightest bit disrespectful. He's here with his own pops, my dad, and his future father-in-law.

_I'd keep my eyes on my glass, too. _

"Look…you can get a dance, sit back, relax," I explained. "My uncle…he's not gonna give a fuck."

Nicky chuckled, staring out to the floor. "This is a nice setup…really nice broads." He tilted his head, watching Paula swing on the pole by her legs.

"Did'ju see that shit?" Li'l Ed shouted, and I heard him over the music. "Yo!"

Paula paid him no attention, continuing her routine. She's not stupid, and she's the hottest dancer we have, and Ed's young ass had no money in his hands. He stood by the stage with his father.

"You like that?" I asked Nicky.

He smiled, taking a sip of his drink. "I'm good."

I didn't believe him, nor did I think he was gay. He wasn't foaming at the mouth like my idiot cousin, but…

When Nicky looked to his cell phone again, I leaned back, placing my arm over the booth while I stared at Paula. She knows, like they all do, to keep an eye on my guests. She met my gaze a second later, and I pointed down to Nicky.

"Oh…where you goin'?" Ed hassled her as she left the stage. He kept his hands to himself, honoring the other rule we have here at Eclipse. Well, actually, you're just not allowed to touch the dancers unless you have their permission. Otherwise, it's looking not touching.

I stared at my uncle, who was getting a kick out of it.

He, too, quickly met my stare. Carlisle nodded at me, ushering his son to the other end of the stage.

Paula came over to offer Nicky a dance, and he offered her a drink.

Whatever floats his boat, I thought, although Paula's not the best conversationalist.

Bored, I sat back with my drink, wondering what Maggie and the kids were doing at home.

I think she'd said she'd order pizza tonight, but we have all those leftovers from yesterday…

The sausage and peppers she made were bangin'.

"Hey." Ed joined us again, grabbing a glass to mix and match the booze. "Whatta you doin'?" He stared at me. "This is…the fuckin' den of iniquity, and you're sitting with this one?" He pointed to Nicky. "Oh…she gonna dance?" He slid into the booth. "Hi…I'm Edward Cullen."

"No, you're not." Paula snorted, nestling into Nicky's side. "Who is this kid?"

Ed placed his hand on his chest, nodding. "I'm Little Ed."

Paula pouted. "Are you really…? Little Ed?" She wiggled her pinky.

"Oh, no…th-that's not what I meant." He guzzled his drink before slamming it back down. "You're beautiful." His face was flushed.

I chuckled, watching Nicky whisper something in her ear, and a second later she was crawling over to Little Ed.

"Holy shit…" Ed exclaimed when she'd straddled him.

"Oh!" Carlisle shouted, a girl under each arm. "What's this?"

His son ignored him, and Little Ed had no idea what to do with his hands, as Paula started to grind into him.

"Are you joining us?" I asked Carlisle.

He looked down to Christy and Starla. "In a bit." Carlisle escorted them away.

"What is this? They never seen tits before?" Nicky asked.

"You wouldn't think so," I sighed. "Seriously. Everyone's chill…do what you want, like I said."

He pursed his lips, shaking his head. "I'm just waitin' on my pops. We leave early tomorrow, and Carli's waitin' on me."

I nodded. "You'll be back soon."

Nicky began to ask me questions, regarding how he'd go about getting a liquor license, if we had connections with construction companies. I dug that, getting down to business, and I became totally engrossed while I rattled off certain details. It kept me busy, washing the boredom away for a while.

"I figured it'd be…sorta the same out here. We get cheap labor from across the border," he explained.

"Depending on what zone you set up shop in, they'll be bids—within the union," I said. "Winning bid, best deal gets the job, and they'll start construction right away. You'll also…have a few on your payroll, who will be no-shows."

He chuckled. "Right…I know how that works."

Knowing my uncle was going to hook him up with a legal gig for the time being, I didn't say any more.

"I got Carli looking for a house. I dig Brooklyn, but she likes Staten Island." He frowned.

"Staten Island's a dump. No lie. Your backyard'll smell like garbage, and then you got that Jersey trash miles away," I sighed.

"New Jersey," he mused. "Now those motherfuckers know how to step on toes."

"Eh…they get uppity, we stomp 'em to the ground. They've been quiet the past few years."

"Oh my God!" Little Ed mouthed, staring over Paula's shoulder at me, and then he dove for her tits.

"You're adorable," Paula laughed, weaving her fingers into his hair. "Lemme show you somethin'." She left his lap to take his hand.

"Wh-what?" he stammered.

"Just go!" I shouted, about to push him outta the booth.

Little Ed didn't have to be told twice and trailed after Paula.

"I'm impressed," I admitted after they'd disappeared.

"I slipped her a C-note," Nicky said. "He's…gonna be my brother-in-law."

I snorted, patting his shoulder. "Yeah…and you know Ant already. Everything'll work out." I was trying to be really nice, but I had no idea what to say.

Nicky leaned back, staring at the stage. "What's a Benjamin buy you here? I'm curious."

"No idea," I said. "I've never had to pay…for anything here. Even when I was single," I explained.

"You're on number four already…kid number four." His eyes widened. "I put off getting married for a long time. I wanted to be settled in other things…" He smiled. "Meeting Carli…I'd met her before, years ago. But I was two years older, and it wouldn't have looked right." Nicky shrugged.

"You guys hooked up before?" I asked.

"No." He scoffed. "She was like…sixteen back then, but she had my attention. I didn't see her the last time we visited. It was your grandfather's party or something . . ." He sipped his drink. "He still alive?"

"Yeah." I nodded. "I got married at twenty-seven." I didn't know how long he'd been working for his father, but I'd been around the girls, the bullshit, and everything else since I was seventeen. After meeting Maggie, and after ten years of partying pretty fucking hard, settling down wasn't a hardship at all. "I wasn't young, either."

"But you're not old now," he laughed.

"Well…" I felt I'd aged more than a decade the past few years.

"I'm supposed to meet up with a Gio when I come back?" he asked. "Who's that?"

"Oh, Peto…Aro's son." I'd seen them talking earlier, so I assumed he knew who Gio was.

"Your sister's husband?" he asked.

I nodded.

Nicky grimaced. "But who is he?"

"Unfortunately…no one," I said. "He manages Midnight Sun, and he'll probably go over the shit we'd just been talking about. Getting you hooked up with the right people."

"He's not a friend of ours?" he asked.

"Aro will be with you." I placed my glass down and looked to my watch. It was only going on seven-thirty p.m. "You'll be respected as a capo…They know who you are." I wondered if he worried about that. "Look, you're not out on a limb here. You're gonna be family, which means we'll all look out for you." I could understand his being wary, Maisano worrying about him. He's not coming out here with his crew. It's just him, and he'll more than likely acquire a few free agents. "Aro'll get you accustomed to certain things. You need papers, legal documents, you talk to your future father-in-law. Otherwise…you have any problems, you can call me." That was the biggest welcoming gesture he'd get from me—my number, my help.

These days, I broker most sit-downs. I oversee and associate with our captains, but Aro's old ass is still out there, taking care of business.

Nicky grinned. "It's cool…Your father and your uncle are real nice. I think I'll like it out here."

I raised a brow. "Right…you do the right thing, you won't have any problems." Being an actual member of _this_ family only takes you so far. I'm who I am now, but I worked my ass off for it, for the respect, the money, and the title. Most would think it was easy because of my father, but it was actually harder trying to prove myself because of that fact. I honestly had no idea how hard he's worked out in Vegas, the inner workings of Maisano's organization. I know Nicky's no pussy, but that's all I really knew—heard he was more brawn than brain, muscle, while his brother was the businessman, TJ.

Plus, he's seeing everyone carefree, partying and shit.

It might be a different story a few months down the line.

Us nice guys could be seen as pricks, although I hoped for the best.

* * *

**Thank you for reading. **

**Please leave me your thoughts**


	12. Santino Chapter 2

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

* * *

**"Back in the Saddle"**

**Chapter Two**

**Sonny/Santino**

"You'll do good." I patted Nicky's back.

He polished off his drink. "Whatta you think they're talking about in there?"

"Business." I grinned. "If you don't know…" If his father hadn't told him, then I wasn't going to. It wasn't my place.

"Sonny!" Li'l Ed screamed, running toward me. If he didn't look gloriously disheveled, I would have thought someone got shot. "Oh my God…" He collapsed into the booth, lipstick on his collar.

"Things went well?" Nicky chuckled.

My cousin beamed. "Sonny, smell my fingers—"

I pushed him away from me. "Get the fuck outta hea!"

He cackled, sitting back. "I love this place!" Li'l Ed looked around. "Where's my dad?"

I bit my bottom lip, peeping Carlisle—the middle of a tit sandwich—a few tables back. Li'l Ed wasn't looking directly behind himself, though. "Over there." I pointed.

Li'l Ed did a double take. "He's like a fuckin' pimp! He better gimme one." His tipsy ass walked over to his father's table.

And _my_ father owed me fifty bucks.

Nicky and I watched while Li'l Eddie approached Carlisle. But my cousin joined us again real fast. "He's fuckin' greedy." Ed grabbed a bottle, disgruntled now. "He rubs up on them, and then he'll go home and fuck my mother."

"He could be fucking _them_," Nicky added. "Could be worse…It's a thrill, all in good fun."

I met Ed's gaze. "You got your shit greased, free drinks…Don't worry about what he's doing." Even if I don't partake in certain activities…

_Eh, I wanted the fifty bucks. I didn't wanna lose the bet. _

I truly don't give a fuck what anyone else does.

My uncle's not out of control like his son. He still parties, does…whatever.

It's a don't ask, don't tell policy.

If it happens here, it never _really_ happened.

Dad has always behaved himself. He's actually kinda mean to my employees, but that's better than him disrespecting my mother. I'd beat his ass, legit try to kill him.

Everyone else…?

"You know the rules," I said.

"Yeah, yeah…" He sat back. "Paula thought I was cute. I shoulda asked for her number."

I shook my head, jerking a thumb to Nicky. "He hooked you up. You ain't that cute."

"Yeah, right." He didn't believe me.

"Den of iniquity," I sighed. "They're here for the taking. Right?" I followed Ed's line of sight to the stage. "I wonder who else'll think you're cute."

He grinned, leaving the booth.

"That was cold. You set him up to get slapped," Nicky laughed.

I shrugged, knowing I had fifteen minutes until eight, and I wanted to keep Little Ed occupied.

With nothing else to excite me, I looked forward to beating the Skip, winning the bet.

Maybe my father had the same objective and was paying attention to the time. Dad, Aro, and Maisano left the office, and my father walked right over to my cousin.

"Shit," I hissed under my breath, knowing Dad was gonna fuck with his head.

Maisano and Aro slid into the booth across from us.

"Little Ed scored with Paula?" Aro asked.

I nodded.

"What's wrong with him?" Maisano asked, staring across the floor. "Like…" He seemed at a loss for words. "He was scopin' my Gabby's tits earlier."

"Mom?" Nicky asked.

"Hey, the kid's got taste." Aro wrapped an arm around Maisano, and Maisano laughed while Aro widened his eyes at me.

"He's always been weird," I said.

"That's what I meant." Maisano nodded. "Is he…special? I'm not tryin'a be rude."

"No," Aro laughed. "He's a kid, young for his age, too…" His eyes met mine. "He reminds me of Dame."

"No," I disagreed; my brother was nothing like that kid.

"Dame's the doctor?" Maisano asked.

I nodded. "He's a surgeon…always busy. You met him last time youse were here." I was sure they'd met again at Ant's wedding. My brother's still not a social butterfly at big events. Now he skulks in the corner, hiding behind Jordan, and they people watch together, or he's chasing his daughter around. "He was Ant's best man."

"Right." Maisano poured himself a drink.

"He really scored with Paula?" Aro asked.

I worried for my cousin, wondering if—by eight o'clock—every motherfucker in the club was gonna have some sort of issue. "She your girl or somethin'?" I asked Aro.

"No, it's just…" Aro looked around. "She's usually your uncle's."

"I don't think he minds." I shrugged, looking over to the two Eds by the bar. They were just drinking and talking. "Excuse me." I left the booth to button my jacket.

Dad noticed me coming their way, and he was quick to turn Ed from me.

I could always tell one of the girls to accost Little Ed, keep him outta trouble until…like nine rolls around. But I was pretty sure my father would scare one off.

Nevertheless, I didn't give my father the satisfaction. Maybe he thought I was up to something, but I entered my office instead. Through the cameras, I was able to see which dancers were in the dressing room, and I used the intercom. "Yo…"

Lacey, our little Vietnamese treasure, picked up the phone on the wall. "Yeah?"

"It's Cullen," I said.

She looked up to the camera. "Who are you looking for?"

"You…" I paused to watch her smile up at me—shock written in her features.

_Sorry, sweetheart._

She giggled. "I'll be right there."

I took my finger off the button and rocked back in my chair.

A minute later, there was a knock at the door.

Before I answered, I made sure everything was cool, my eyes trailing around the office. I probably won't be back here for a few weeks. So Ant wouldn't ransack my desk, I took the payroll books and left them out for him.

Then I locked up, meeting Lacey in the hallway.

She stood there expectantly, either thinking I wanted to reprimand her or fuck her. It was neither of those two.

"It's my cousin's birthday," I lied, digging in my pocket and counting out a few hundred bucks. It was a silly concept, paying three hundred just so I could gain fifty…oh well.

"What_ exactly_ are you paying me to do?" She had an attitude, and I dug that. Lacey's a bitch, doesn't do anything extra, and she's not scared of my father; meanwhile, she's a hit with the customers.

"To dance…" I held the money out.

Lacey took the bills from me.

"He's having drinks with Skip." I pointed.

She narrowed her eyes at me. "It's not worth it."

I scoffed, handing her another hundred. "I'm your fuckin' boss…you should just do it 'cause I said so." If she didn't have many fans, I would have fired her two years ago. She's popular because she looks crazy young. She's Asian, which is exotic amongst this crowd, and she wears a schoolgirl uniform.

Lacey grinned, checking me out. "Well…there is one place where I take orders, Mr. Cullen. Guess where that is?"

"I don't give a fuck." I pointed toward the bar.

Lacey huffed, stomping away from me, but she did as she was paid to. She walked right up to my father and Little Ed. My cousin was about to come in his pants again, staring at her while she exchanged words with Dad.

No doubt, he told her to scram, but she grasped Ed's hand to lead him away.

That fucker went willingly, leaving Dad at the bar.

It was officially eight o'clock, and I emerged to give him a pat on the back.

"That mouthy little cooz…Why does she still work here?" he asked.

I put my hand out. "Where's my money?"

"Fuck you," he laughed. "My wife watches your kids for free. I don't gotta give you shit."

"Your wife happens to be my mother." I chuckled.

"Kids are always eatin' my Fritos, messin' up my house." He sipped his drink.

"Oh, so now I owe Pop-Pop a bag of Fritos?" I knew he didn't mean what he'd said.

"You're droppin' them off tomorrow, right?" He smiled. "Except for yesterday, I've barely seen my bruisers all week, and it's summer." Dad actually looked saddened that they haven't been by much.

I nodded. "Maggie hasn't gone anywhere in a while. She's basically waiting around to go into labor."

"Mom says she's miserable." He laughed through his nose. "Fuck, I'd be miserable, too."

"Yeah…" I looked around to see nothing amiss, everyone was chillin', and Little Ed was in a private room. "We'll talk later this week about this cat?" I asked in reference to Nicky, Las Vegas and all that. It wasn't a rush.

"Next week, his brother, Dee's gonna call you—Dominic."

I shook my head. "Nicky doesn't have a brother named—"

"Anthony," he spoke with his hands. "Maisano's brother—Dominic."

"For what?" I asked, vaguely placing a face with the name. If it's the Dominic I'm thinking of, he's another muscle, handles the grittier side of our world—another Aro, the shit I still do on occasion.

Dad hummed, staring down to his glass. "You might have to go out there."

I put up a finger to stop him. "I'm not gonna be around the next two weeks."

"I mentioned that…" He didn't give a fuck.

"Why don't you and Mom go out there?" I asked. "Take a fuckin' vacation, and what the fuck? Am I being pimped out to Vegas?" I didn't care if I sounded elitist. With my status as it is right now, if I was meeting with anyone, it was going to be Anthony Maisano.

I get my hands dirty all the time, which is unavoidable, but I don't know Dominic like that.

"Look…I'mma get mine." He pointed to himself. "If you want nothin' outta this, I'll tell Dee you're not interested." Dad refused to meet my gaze. "They technically don't have to give you shit…not if they're taking care of me." He smiled, placing his arm around me. "You go out there for a day, and you come back two million dollars richer. How is that a bad thing? You think I'd give someone your number if I didn't trust them?"

"You don't even trust me," I laughed at him.

Dad narrowed his eyes. "You believe that, Santino?"

I didn't reply, knowing my words were true—knowing what I do now and that he can't trust anybody. And I know that because _I_ don't trust anybody. Sure, I knew he'd never place me in danger, but when was the last time he went out to Vegas? I didn't think I'd get popped or anything, either. I knew that much.

"You think I'd do something to harm you?" He poked my chest.

"Never," I admitted.

He nodded. "So, what's the problem?" He raised a brow. "Oh…the whole Maggie having a baby thing…No one said you had to go out there now. Just fuckin' pick up when the man calls you…God." He finished his drink. "When I was your age, I had three kids, too…Well, Mom was pregnant with Kylie when I was your age, and I do have regrets." He rolled his eyes, not sounding remorseful at all. "But you don't know what's going to happen next week, or next month, or next year." Dad counted off his fingers.

"Sure, I worked a lot. I did what I could _while_ I could—while I was young, like you should. I'm not some greedy motherfucker…We have a good thing here, but nothing's insured." He searched my eyes. "It's not only about this thing. It's about taking every opportunity and advantage."

I shook my head. "Something happens to me, my family's taken care of—"

"Sure, you can retire right now, and be happy the rest of your life." He chuckled. "I could have, too, but you know what? That's not an option, so pick up the fuckin' phone, Santino."

I agreed, even if I knew nothing of importance would be said over the phone. I'd have to go out there, but if the timing's no good, and I can't…I won't.

Technically and logically, I could have Nicky speak on my behalf. He could confer with his uncle for me, and he might appreciate that—my trust in a way.

He works for me now.

"Oh…" I remembered something. "Sunday, if we're not around, the boys have Sunday school before church, and then the Sullivans—"

"Fuck the Sullivans. They're mine this weekend." He pointed to himself.

I didn't comment, making a mental note to remind my mother. "I'mma take off." If I left now, Maggie would definitely be awake.

"Yeah, me too. Your mother won't fuck me if the kids are there." He shrugged. "I don't know why…You and Maggie are nasty enough. I bet your kids know what sex is."

I threw my head back to laugh. "No, they don't…At least, I don't think so." Sex is everywhere, and kids get the gist—I knew that, but I didn't think my kids did.

He pointed at me. "Kids are sneaky motherfuckers. You don't know what they know."

"Has one of them…said something to you?" I was curious.

The last time Dad hinted at some shit, a talk with Little Sonny followed.

"Little Sonny and I talk all the time. He's mad smart for a little fucker. I'm telling you. He knows a lot more than he lets on, and you need to be straight with him."

"He's eight," I said.

"You were eight once, too." He looked around himself. "You were also perceptive, and I always told you the truth. I never treated you—just like I don't treat Little Sonny—like some dumb little kid."

"But, he _is_ a kid." I showed him my palms, nearly pleading.

Dad didn't pay me any attention. He was mad fucking rude because he didn't want to hear my words. We'd had this conversation before. My sons are little boys, my babies, and they're not members of some crew. I'm always honest with my children. I can be blunt, too, but I could never be as abrasively truthful or as cold as my father was—how he was with me at times.

I don't blame my father for a fuckin' thing.

My eldest also has responsibilities as the oldest. Santino Jr. is a natural-born leader, too. He doesn't have to be told certain things, takes initiative, and helps out around the house.

Littlest Ed, my younger son, is a very good kid. He's quirky, hyper, funny, and silly. He's seven and acts as such.

My sons are best friends—only a year apart—and the best of enemies.

But they're good boys.

I want my kids to stay kids until they're not kids anymore.

I want them to play and have fun—hold on to that innocence that makes them believe in magic, the tooth fairy—and shit like that.

"Sonny!" Little Ed shouted. "Holy fuck!" He grabbed his junk.

"See what happens when you shield motherfuckers?" Dad pointed. "You unleash them onto the world, they're immature, and they act like fools. Pull yourself together." Dad righted him, making him stand straight.

I massaged my forehead.

"Damn, Unc…Why you gettin' on me?" he asked.

"Go tell your father we're leaving." Dad pointed. When Ed turned away, my father called him back. "How'd your father's dick taste? You kissin' up on Paula?"

I thought Little Ed was going to keel over and die. "What?"

Dad patted his back. "I was kidding."

_My father tells the truth even when he lies. _

Little Eddie finally escaped, and I shook my head at my father. In all fairness, my cousin is twenty-three, peculiar and a horny fuck, but that shit was uncalled for. Dad's a trickster, too, and all he wanted was for Li'l Ed to clock Carlisle.

Suddenly Dad shuddered, nearly gagging. "Dame ever tell you that little fuck thought he had herpes last year?"

"No…" I wondered why it was vital I knew that. "Let's go."

My father didn't argue.

Nicky wanted to get back to Carli, and Maisano promised his wife something, so we were all leaving.

Except Carlisle, Aro, and Little Eddie.

Our friends from Vegas were staying here in Manhattan.

Dad surprised me when he insisted they take the limo. Neither of us could drive. Well, I was sure I could, but I wasn't going to, and I quickly hailed us a taxi.

"You couldn't take someone's whip?" Dad looked to his shoes, and he was talkative, so I knew he was tipsy. "It smells like curry in here."

I stared out the window, watching the streets whiz by. "Yeah…" I had no idea why he was complaining. At least we'd found a cab within a minute that was willing to haul us to Brooklyn.

"Fuckin'…cameras in cabs these days." He peered into the front seats to flip off the dashboard.

"Be easy."

Anxious to get home, neither one of us was good company during the ride.

* * *

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	13. Santino Chapter 3

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Beta'd by HollettLA. **

* * *

**"Back in the Saddle"**

**Chapter Three**

**Sonny/Santino**

_**D**_ue any day, any time now, Maggie rocked the blue nightgown she wore. Big belly and all, she looked sexy as fuck. Maybe if she didn't look as good pregnant, I wouldn't be so down to get her knocked up.

I have no idea how this last pregnancy happened. Damion tried to explain it to me, but it went over my head. My wife was on the pill and then…I don't fucking know, but I was ecstatic to hear the news. Happy. Sure, it's our fourth kid; life will get even crazier.

But fuck it.

Our youngest, Beth, will be going to Pre-K this September, which is all day. Our boys are already in school, too. It's the beginning of summer. Until school starts it might be crazy, but I always take time off during the summer. I'll just take time off from whenever Maggie goes into labor.

Actually, she was due two days ago, which is why we're anticipating she'll go this weekend.

But my son is cool, content to chill out until he's ready to join the world.

I don't know.

If he doesn't come out by next week, they'll induce her, but my wife knows her body.

It's any time, any day…

"Oh my God…" Maggie groaned, sitting down on her side of the bed.

"What?" I jumped up again. I'd just gotten home and undressed, and I was in bed.

For a minute, I was totally relaxed.

"Turn up the A/C?" She waved at her neck. "I'm hot."

I placed a kiss on her cheek and hopped to it, bringing the thermostat down to sixty-five.

But then I raced to get back in bed, horny as fuck.

Maggie laughed at me, or my leap, as she picked up her book on the nightstand.

"Hey…" I ran my nose up her bicep. "How you feelin'?"

She furrowed her brow, staring at nothing. "I'm hot…but what if the kids are cold?" She turned to me. "Beth always kicks her blankets off…" She tried to get up again. "Help."

I was already getting ready to push against her back, help her off the bed. "Where you goin'?"

She looked up to me, rubbing her huge bump. Maggie's carrying bigger than she ever has. This baby was a big one. "To make sure they're not cold." She went to waddle out of the room.

I giggled, watching her cute ass. "You get in bed. I'll do it."

She grinned. "Okay. Thank you."

I sighed, thinking her sweet, but then I raced to check on the kids again.

After all, if I was getting laid tonight, it had to happen before the wife fell asleep.

Any time. Any day. Then no Maggie for Santino. The baby's a deal breaker, which makes it all worth it.

Beth, like Maggie said, had kicked off her blanket, and I covered her back up—making sure to tuck the ends in before I kissed that Angelface. My daughter's on the chubby side, like Kylie used to be when she was little. But she looks just like Maggie, only she has my green eyes. And she's got those chubby cherub cheeks that I love to bite.

Eddie was sprawled out, his feet on his pillow instead of his head, but he had the blanket on. He's like a split between us both. He looks like his mother and me, random features like Maggie and then me, his hair a lighter shade of brown. "Daddy…"

Instantly afraid I'd woken him up, I winced, throwing the covers back down. "Shit…" I felt like crap, peeking underneath. "What's up?"

He rolled over, fast asleep.

I plopped a smooch on his forehead and tiptoed out of there.

My last stop was Little Sonny's room, and his light was now on. It wasn't a minute ago, when I'd assumed he was asleep like the other two. This little motherfucker looks just like me. He could have been my twin back in the day. "Hey…"

He had wide eyes. "You coulda knocked."

"No…" I smiled, entering his bedroom, and I suddenly thought of my father. "You got broads in here?" I went to his closet.

"No!" He scoffed, as if I were serious.

"This is my house." I pointed to the floor. "I don't hafta knock...you get older, we'll get you a lock."

He looked back to his pad of paper, getting into his drawing once more.

"It's late," I said.

"It's summer," he replied.

"I don't care—"

"That's crap!" He covered his mouth.

I chuckled at his brave little ass. "Excuse me?" I think he's spending too much time with my father. And knowing what I used to think of my dad as a kid, I'm always trying to be nicer—more understanding. But I can only be so nice. You give an inch, and these kids take a mile. They'll walk all over you if you're not careful.

Sonny huffed, closing his book. "Can you and Mommy be quiet tonight?"

My eyes almost fell out of my head. "Uh…"

"That's why you want me to go to sleep, right?" He grabbed for his blanket.

Stuck on dumb for a minute, I actually felt like calling for Maggie—wanting her to grab his birth certificate. Was he eight or fucking eighteen? I also had no idea what he knew. If he knew what his mother and I do at night, or…

_Dad hinted at this earlier._

I knew I had to ask, but I was terrified of his reply.

"Keep it down?" I asked, steeling my nerves. "What do you mean?" I walked to sit on his bed. "Do we usually disturb you?"

He slumped low into the mattress, his cheeks turning pink. "I don't know…I'm tired."

"Now, you're tired?" I quirked a brow, wanting to push his buttons, push for him to elaborate. Little did I know, I didn't have to push that hard.

"It's gross, okay?" He scowled. "That's Mommy. And, and…I wanna sleep, okay?" He rolled over.

I massaged my forehead, thinking I might give myself a stroke. "What's gross?" I asked.

He groaned, stiffening, much like I wanted to. Only, he was getting angry, and I was mortified. "The naked stuff," he whispered.

Knowing he's mature for his age, but remembering his age nonetheless, I thought of my brother. "We were horsin' around—naked wrestling."

"That's crap."

I widened my arms. "Why's _everything_ crap?"

"I let Uncle Damion use my Xbox, and he told me."

I blinked, staring at him, and then I waved a hand. "Told you…what? And you got questions, you come to me, not your uncle." I'd expected him to ask my father, but maybe Damion told Dad about my son's inquiry.

My brother's a good guy, an upstanding citizen these days. But the fact remains that he still has a warped sense of humor.

I'm just being real.

He also swears that kids understand a lot more than we give them credit for. He'd know, since he's always around kids, I guess.

He's got two girls now—Izzy and his five-month-old, Carolyn—and he's always around kids at the hospital. Dame's an attending pediatric surgeon at Columbia University Hospital, having passed his boards or whatever months ago.

Supposedly, Columbia had a better contract or something. They'd been after his ass for a while, playing hardball—trying to beat NYU and Mount Sinai's offers. They were offering him whatever his heart desired. The only thing my brother actually wanted was a more flexible schedule. And he's not only a surgical machine, like he used to be, a staff physician, working out of the emergency room. Now, he's teamed with a pediatrics group, right at Columbia. He has office hours and then surgical hours, and he barely works the emergency room, although he does have some days when he's on call.

Maybe he wasn't the first in his class in med school. But since he's been on the straight and narrow, working his ass off during residency, he was the most sought after commodity that NYU had.

My parents and I—everyone—we're all so proud of him.

At first, Dame didn't wanna leave NYU, because of all the family ties we have.

Ultimately, when Jordan left, he'd changed his mind. Without his wife around and because she'd no longer be bringing home a paycheck, he left NYU for Columbia—for the bigger salary.

Dad wants him to ride out his contract. Then, our father wants to invest, get Dame his own practice here in Brooklyn. The Skip would be some silent partner; however, that's a few years away.

I digress.

He's happy, and I'm happy for him. We both have happy marriages and healthy children.

_But what the fuck did he tell my kid?_

Yo, I was tempted to put the current conversation on hold, walk across my lawn, and ask that fucker.

"About sex," Sonny whispered, sitting up and facing me.

His bold demeanor surprised me.

"He said that's where babies come from." He munched on his lip. "You know…kissing naked."

I nodded, trying to remember what the fuck I knew about it at eight. Trust; I always remember just knowing what sex was. Maybe not the _mechanics_, but there's enough of it on TV, movies…there's fucking everywhere. "Yeah…" I agreed. "When a man digs a woman—they have sex. Sometimes a baby, uh, is the…conclusion, and sometimes…" I stared at the floor.

_And sometimes…?_

"And sometimes…no." I shrugged, and I'd started to chuckle. "Sometimes you promise to call, and…"

"What?"

I waved a hand. "Forget it. Sex is something people do when they're much older."

He furrowed his brow. "But how…?" Sonny tilted his head to stare at me.

"Uh…" I needed a minute.

"Can I interrupt?" Maggie asked, fucking beaming, and I had no idea how long she'd been standing there.

I blew out a calming breath; she'd saved me. "By all means."

The wife grinned, doing her sexy waddle, mom-swagger as she strolled into the room.

I stood up, helping her ease down. The three of us weren't fitting on his bed without breaking it.

Maggie reached to comb Sonny's messy hair with her fingers. But she couldn't reach, and he wasn't moving.

I gave him the dad eyes, and he was quick to sidle up to her. That's like the only major rule I have. I really don't care if my children are pricks to me, but they better be angels for Mom. It's just how it is.

"God—"

"Oh…" Sonny and I bit out in unison.

Maggie glared at me.

"God…" I encouraged.

Don't get me wrong. Every time she starts an explanation with "God," it's usually interesting. But the mention of God and His infallible ass don't leave much for questions, I don't think.

_"Why's this like this?"_

_"Because God made it." _

In Little Sonny's words: that's crap.

"God—" she started again, glancing at me, and I didn't say shit "—created males and females to fit together, like…puzzle pieces."

"That's good." I wanted to clap.

Maggie giggled, ignoring me, and I was cool with that. "You have a penis," she told him. "And females have…vaginas."

"I know that." Sonny's face was beet red. "Mommy, I don't—" He cut himself off, staring at me.

"It's okay," I told him. "Mom knows her stuff." Fuck. Back in the day, I'd taught Maggie, and now the wife's a wildcat in the sack. Trust. _Jesus Christ._ Trust me.

Little Sonny was embarrassed. Maybe he doesn't know much, but he knows enough to be uncomfortable talking to his mother about it. I wished he wouldn't be, but I remember wanting to throw myself out the window whenever the word "sex" flew out my mother's mouth.

"But when they meet, the puzzle pieces…" Maggie got stuck, bringing her hands together. "Uh, the penis goes into the vagina."

Sonny grimaced. "Why?"

"To make babies." I squeezed his shoulder. "Pay attention." We both stared at Maggie, expectant.

"Not only to make babies," she continued. "Sex—making love—is a way to show love, and feel love, and there's a bunch of different ways to do that. Some of which don't result in a baby. Like, when a man loves a man, or a woman loves a woman. They have the same parts, so…they can't make a baby together, but they can still make love. To make a baby, a female and a male…When the penis and the vagina meet, um, sperm…like tadpoles?"

He shrugged.

_Sonny grew up in Brooklyn, like he knows what tadpoles are. _

"They're these little…" Maggie pursed her lips. "Anyway, the sperm travels up the penis and spills in the vagina…to meet up with the egg...women carry eggs."

"Like chickens?" he asked. "That's weird."

"Not quite, but the egg grows into a baby."

"Takes nine months." I added, placing my hand on Maggie's stomach. "Capisce?"

Sonny still wore a face. "But how…?"

I sucked my teeth. "You want us to show you?"

"Santino!" Maggie shrieked, swatting at me.

"I was kidding." I kissed her hair. "Look, when you get older, you'll understand better." I had a sense of déjà vu. "It's for adults, so you don't worry about it now. You can't have sex until you're much older—"

"Married," Maggie said.

I rolled my eyes, hoping she didn't see me. "When you're older, your body will start to change, and you'll…understand a lot, _a lot _more. Things that don't make sense now will start to."

"All married people do it. Even Na-Na and Pop-Pop." Maggie grinned at me.

I almost gagged. "Yeah…"

Sonny still stared at me.

"There's a hole," I said. "The peesh goes into the hole."

"Oh!" Sonny nodded. "And that's how the penis gets its sperm inside."

"Exactly!" I was proud.

"Anything else you wanna know?" Maggie asked.

He shook his head.

"Okay." My wife wiggled her fingers at me, and I helped her up.

I kissed those lips, and she went on to say goodnight to Sonny before leaving the room.

"You got any more questions…? For me?" I looked around us. "You can ask me anything." I think every parent wants that, for their kids to be forthcoming and totally honest, but are scared shitless of it.

"Na-Na and Pop-Pop?" He frowned.

I nodded. "Yup…How do you think I was born?"

"But you're old and they're old, and they still…do that?" He was very interested.

"You know what? Ask Pop-Pop. He'll tell you." Then my face paled, thinking Dad might show him porn. "Um…"

"Pop-Pop will tell me." He nodded.

"We can talk to him together?" I suggested.

Still, I might be an adult, but the thought of Dad plowing Mom was gross.

"You dunno either?" he asked.

"Of course, I do. We'll, uh…we'll try to keep it down." I patted his shoulder. "But…why so interested? What happened—"

"I saw you," Sonny whispered. "I saw you guys."

I scoffed at myself. "Where? What—"

"I just wanted a glass of water, but…the downstairs den by the kitchen." He wrang his hands together. "I'm sorry."

"Shhh. Don't apologize." I gave his cheek a pat. "You didn't do anything wrong." I wondered how much he actually saw. "You have questions, you come to me and your mother. We're your parents. That's our job."

He stared at me again, sucking his top lip into his mouth.

"What's up?" I asked.

"I asked Mom, and…you work at a club, right? But what do you do?"

_Holy fuck_. I thought I had a few years before I'd get hit with that. But even my younger son wonders what I do for a living. Little Eddie asked, Sonny was there, and I said I worked at a night club. I understood their curiosity, too. When I was growing up, whenever we'd ask where Dad was, Mom would say, "He's working," but we never knew what he did. I think I was around ten when I figured it out. But I didn't have the balls to ask until I had a valid excuse. I'd been doing a report for school, and so much shit about my father was on the internet.

"I manage," I said.

"I thought Uncle Gio managed?"

"It's a different club—both clubs belong to Pop-Pop. We run them, and he's—"

"Yeah, Na-Na says he's retarded."

I barked out a laugh. "Oh, fuck. You mean retired." I palmed my face to laugh so hard, I snorted.

"Oh." He nodded.

"That's a bad word." Maggie would have kicked me in the ass for laughing at that. "Pop-Pop is _retired_. He's not…the word you said, and you don't ever call people that."

"Okay," he said.

"What are you drawing?" I asked.

His face lit up. "A dinosaur."

"Awesome, lemme see." I peeked over to see the T-Rex outlined on his paper. "Nice. Can I have it for my office?"

Sonny smiled even wider if that was possible. "Ah-huh."

"Cool." I ruffled his hair. "I love you."

"I love you, too." He leaned to hug me, and I squeezed him tight. "When Mommy has the baby, can we stay here and Uncle Damion watch us?"

I chuckled. "No, sorry. Beth'll be going to your uncle's, while you and your brother stay with Na-Na and Pop-Pop. Unless, Uncle Damion might take you and Eddie if youse promise to behave—like, be _real_ good. You, also…depending, uh, after church on Sunday, Grandma and Grandpa Sullivan wanna—"

"Oh, Daddy, no!" He actually whined, which is unlike him.

My eldest likes them as much as Maggie and I do. Eddie and Beth are cool with them as far as I know. But they get on Sonny, quiz him on scripture and shit. And we only last about an hour or two with them. Maggie gets more upset—annoyed being around them. I don't know. I know her mom nags, nitpicks her mothering skills.

I see Robert, her father, quite often. Her parents still live a block over, for crying out loud. We're bound to run into each other.

He approaches me, and I can't run without looking rude, and he asks to set up activities and visits, or invites us over for dinner. We always come through. Kathy never stops by unless she's invited, but her husband will come over whenever, unexpected, to say hello.

Regardless of anything, Maggie's always welcoming, invites them to all the holidays we hold here. Most times, they come to drop off some kind of dessert, stay for a bit, and then leave.

They've never fit in well with my family.

We've gone to their place for Christmas Eve dinner the past two years. They give the kids their gifts. Each year we've left early to cross the street—have dessert with my parents and we've invited her parents, but they never come. Just like we tell them we'll meet them at midnight mass; meanwhile, we put the kids to bed as early as possible.

The rule is always the same. If you're awake, Santa won't come. Same with, "You stop believing, you stop receiving," which is total crap.

But they're not monsters. The Sullivans are religious—ridiculously so—and Maggie's mother has no sense of humor, but they're nice people, and they love our kids.

They try, and we try to meet 'em halfway.

Whatever, I digress, and my mind wanders.

It's better I think of trivial shit like that, in lieu of "work" matters. Despite talking to Dame when he comes by, I don't do shit inside this house. I have a hidden office, off to the side in the basement. That shit is locked like a fortress and has enough weaponry to guard Fort Knox. At least once a year, I gotta clear it out. Fucking Feds probably have the blueprints to my crib, but that room was built after we bought the house. I won't risk it. When shit gets hot, and they come snooping, I drive everything to a storage unit in Jersey City.

They searched my home twice—both times was while Maggie was pregnant with Eddie—and they hardly searched the basement. She got upset when I was hauled into federal. But they had nothing. They got nothing, and they asked me bullshit questions. Carlisle had me outta there within an hour, and I knew it was all going to happen beforehand.

Maggie knew two days before, and she packed our bags—thinking we were gonna lam it, go down to Brazil.

She's too cute.

"I don't wanna go," Little Sonny exclaimed.

"Watch your tone." I stared at him until he settled down. "Na-Na or Pop-Pop will bring you guys to meet them at church…or we will, depending. You'll have lunch." I shrugged. "The baby's not coming just yet, but your mom knows it's soon—very soon."

"Ugh…they're only nice to Beth." He frowned, but I know they're actually not too horrible, just pains in the asses. There also happens to be nothing to do there. They insist on playing Monopoly—board games and crap. That's boring as fuck to my kids. All three are very active, and they love their technology.

Even my Angelface knows how to work an iPad.

"They love you and your brother, too. They just wanna spend time with you guys." I palmed his cheek. "What's wrong with that? A couple of hours is nothing."

He pulled away. "I'm telling Mommy I don't wanna go. _She _won't make me."

I slumped my shoulders. "You're talking back to me now—being a wise-ass and whining. I'm your father, and if _I _say you're spending the afternoon with them, you are. Talk back to me again, and…" Sometimes I could smack the kid in the mouth, to be honest. "Understand?"

"Yeah," he whispered. "I just don't understand why we gotta go there."

"What don't you understand about it?" I asked.

"They live right next to Na-Na and Pop-Pop. What's the difference if we go there or stay where we are? Do Na-Na and Pop-Pop not want us there?" Tears welled up in his eyes. "Then…I don't wanna go there either." He was quick to throw himself down, facing away from me.

I sighed, pinching his little ass. "Move over."

He did as I said, but refused to look at me.

I leaned over and bit his ear, growling like a dog. Sonny smiled for a split second, but dug his face into his pillow to be a turd. "Get over here." I turned him, squeezing him to my side. "Look, you _know_…You know that's not true. You know how much Na-Na and Pop-Pop love you."

"Pop-Pop's my best friend." He sniffled, but he wasn't really crying.

"You're such a faker." I tickled his side. "Cut it out."

Sonny had a stiff upper lip now.

"Na-Na would body check Grandma Sullivan to steal youse away—to have youse instead." I shrugged. "If _you_ won't go, Eddie won't go, and if Eddie won't go, Beth'll whine and refuse…that'll make Mommy's parents feel bad."

The side of his mouth pulled up. "If Mommy has the baby…Na-Na and Pop-Pop will have to bring us to church. But they don't go to church every Sunday. Pop-Pop says he gives enough money."

I tried not to chuckle. "You think you're so smart? If Mommy has the baby, Na-Na and Pop-Pop will go to the hospital, and drop youse off with Mommy's parents."

"Oh." He covered his face. "But I wanna see the baby. When Mommy had Beth—"

"Yeah, I brought youse to visit afterward. You'll be able to see Mom. Just afterward. It's a lot of waiting beforehand. You guys would get bored." Not to mention their mother screaming in pain, depending on how fast they are, how fast the baby's coming—to give her the epidural.

He furrowed his brow. "But…"

"Look, we got days—the whole weekend ahead of us. Your mother could have the baby _any_ minute." My eyes met his. "So…more important than where you'll be spending Sunday, I need you to keep your brother and sister in check. This is our fourth round, but it's still crazy," I explained.

"You did pukies when Beth was born."

"You should have seen me the first time, when you were born." I kissed those sad lips, and he wiped his mouth.

"You were too nervous, and Uncle Damion had to drive. Pop-Pop said you cried like a little girl." He chuckled.

"Pop-Pop cried right next to me." I smiled.

"You were proud—happy I was born."

"Of course. It was the best day of my life. Then, when Eddie was born, that was the best day. When Beth was born, that was the best. And I'm proud of you guys _every_ day." Fuck, I had to stop being a mush, or else I'd cry now.

"Na-Na said I was the biggest baby in the nursery," he said.

"Yup." I nodded. "They all—the doctors, the nurses, the other expectant moms—" I counted off my fingers "—they all marveled at the sheer size of you. You coulda kicked those others babies' asses." I was exaggerating just so he'd smile wider.

He beamed; he always loves to hear about when he was born. "You think you'll puke when this baby comes?"

I quirked a brow, sighing. "Puking—that's always a possibility and tears are a given, happy tears." I kissed his cheek. "Bottom line, I'm going to be worried about Mom, and Mom's going to be worried about you guys. I'm asking you to focus on Mom. All right? You're a big guy. You're not a baby." I tickled his side. "Now, you know what sex is…"

He didn't laugh, and I thought he would.

I hugged him tight. "You know Eddie and Beth are gonna cry when Mom leaves for the hospital—"

A small whimper escaped him, and he wasn't faking.

"Hey…"

When he picked his head up, tears fell from his eyes. "I don't want nothin' to, to happen'a Mommy," he cried, mumbling, "I wanna go wiff'her."

I jutted my lower lip. "She's just…having a baby." Even though this isn't our first time at the rodeo, I was nervous too. I always am. God forbid. "Come on." I knew what he needed and gathered him into my arms.

He buried his head into my chest, his arms and legs around me, as I brought him back to our bedroom.

Maggie was alarmed, still awake and reading. "What's the matter?"

"He's scared—gonna miss you," I mouthed.

Sonny covered his face when I placed him down.

"Come here. Come lie with Mommy." Maggie called him over. "I'll be gone for two days. You'll visit, and we'll be coming home with your new baby brother." She kissed his hair.

He nodded.

But if I said that, he wouldn't believe me.

"There's sick people at the hospital," he said.

"Yes…that's where sick people go to get better. Or, when they need help from a doctor. Like, I need my doctor to deliver the baby, because we can't do it at home," she explained.

"People die in the hospital…when you had Beth, I was too little, I didn't know but…"

Maggie's eyes were panicked. "Yes, that's true, too. But I'm not sick, my little love." She wiped his tears away. "I'll be fine. Okay? Gimme a kiss."

He had no problem laying a wet one on her. Guess I'm gross, but him thinking that got me upset. I didn't want him to worry of such things. It had my chest feeling all tight and shit.

"Mommy's not dying," I said. "Get that shit out your head."

"Hey!" Maggie's tone meant business.

I put my hands up, anger bubbling up inside me.

But it was more fear. The chance of that happening…I don't know the scientific probability, but chances are slim to none.

I just have to die before any of them.

"But Daddy's right…even if he worded it differently than I would have." She smiled, poking at his side until he cracked, grinning back. "I'll be home in two days, maybe less than, and you'll visit. I'm going to miss you guys so much." She hugged him tight while he laid his head on the bump. He kissed it before embracing her once more; I wished I had a camera. "Your brother knows you're here." Maggie's face lit up, staring up to me while she brought Sonny's hand over to her right side.

"He loves me already," Sonny whispered. "That's my baby brother."

"Of course, he loves you." Maggie waved a hand. "He kicks whenever you guys are making a ruckus. He can't wait to get out and play with you."

"Hi, baby," he spoke to her belly.

"There he goes," Maggie giggled, making the bump shake.

"Belly burn?" I asked, clearing my throat. This moment was so sweet, too precious, and it threatened to make me cry again.

No matter how much he learns, no matter how old or smart he gets, he's still Maggie's baby—soft and childlike for his mommy.

"No…just little kicks. It's not that roomy in there." She winked down to Sonny. "He'll be here soon. Real soon."

"'K." He closed his eyes, nestling into her.

Maggie rocked him from side to side. "And if you're not with me, and you miss me, you can always call—doesn't matter what time it is. Or, you can ask to come visit. I'll send Daddy to pick you guys up."

"Yup," I agreed, giving his foot a squeeze.

"Okay." He brought his knuckles to his eyes, rubbing them.

"Sleep…close your eyes," Maggie crooned, pulling the blanket over him.

I pointed. "I'll put him in bed."

Normally, I wouldn't care. Logically, if the kids are sleeping in our bed—which, one of them always sneaks in—we have countless rooms where we can get down to business. But tonight...it could be our last chance to make love before a long hiatus.

My wife glared at me again.

I put my hands up, surrendering, while Cock Blocker Number One snuggled with his mother.

That's what I wanted to do.

"We'll all go to bed." Maggie nodded.

I looked to the clock and saw it was only a little after ten. "I'mma call Dame—see if they're still up to take Beth. Did you talk to Jordan?"

"Yeah. They don't have plans this weekend, so it's cool." She smiled at me. "I know you're not tired. Go hang with Dame . . . I love you." Maggie blew me a kiss.

I blinked, giving her two winks, blowing her a kiss before tonguing the air. My kid didn't see, so it's cool. "I love youse." I jumped on the bed to kiss them both, making them giggle.

"I love you, too, Daddy."

I smiled real wide, giving his leg a squeeze, and then I left the bed.


	14. Santino Chapter 4

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

* * *

**"Back in the Saddle"**

**Chapter Four**

**Sonny/Santino**

_**C**_ell phone in hand, I entered my backyard to call my brother.

I actually heard that fucker's phone ring. "Shit." He hissed.

Peeking over the fence, I saw him hiding with his back against the wall, smoking a cigarette.

"Dame, Dame, Dame…" I met up with him.

"Fuck you, Cokehead!" He was testy this evening.

I laughed my ass off.

"I'm just saying…there are worse things." He flicked the butt into my yard.

"Hey!" Now that shit wasn't cool.

"I'll pick it up later." He reached into his pocket, and he produced this big can of air freshener. "Jordan knows I hardly wear cologne." He sprayed it and walked into the mist.

"So, you rather smell like a spring bouquet?" I stared at the can.

He shrugged, popping gum into his mouth. "I think she knows."

I nodded. "I bet she does."

He stuck out his tongue, wincing.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked.

"Ant was just here," he whispered. "He's not why I was smoking. Well, I've been sneaking bones all week…but I'm not going through packs like I used to. I'm smoking less since Jordan told me I stink…She hasn't given me shit for it yet but it's coming. She's so much happier being home with the girls." He rambled, scratching his cheek. "I haven't shaved in two days."

I pulled out a chair and sat at the table. "What's up with Ant?" I'd just seen him yesterday, and I couldn't imagine anything amiss.

Dame joined me, taking a seat. "He's trying to get Vincenza pregnant, wondering what he can do to—" he leaned toward me "—make her come. He thinks she's fakin' it, and he's…ugh." He shuddered.

"Ick . . ." It was gross for some reason; I'm so used to knowing Ant's gay. Picturing him with a woman is just wrong. "Why didn't he just ask his father?" I know the two don't talk about what's behind closed doors, but if he had a question… "Carlisle taught me a lot."

"Yuck…Now I feel dirtier." He grimaced. "'Cause you taught me, told me about shit. Ant's not clueless. He knows how to fumble his way around the clit." Dame made a face again. "You know his only comment? 'It's wet,' whatever. I told him that's a good thing . . . I'd totally pay money to watch that train wreck. He gets two points for finding the right hole—"

"Dame…"

"Fuck you. I'm being honest," he laughed. "He should talk to fucking Kylie. She'll tell him. I mean, obviously, if they're fucking…it's warm, wet, the imagination helps…Him coming is gonna happen unless he loses wood. From what I hear, Vinny's all over him. Tries to fuck her fag husband every chance she has. That poor kid. How can she _not_ know?"

I didn't comment.

"Sure, Ant's macho, a total butch-tough-guy, but…Stevie Wonder would know he's gay," he whispered; I laughed through my nose. "They've been married three months. She might be pregnant already—who knows? But what comes after he knocks her up? Jordan knows I can have sex every day, as many times, that I'm always down. I'm a horndog for my wife, as are most men, I'd gather. Well, pussy in general." He was thinking too much about it. "If she doesn't know already, she will when he stops touching her. Or, she'll think he's fucking around, which might happen. It just won't be _another_ woman. Remember his bachelor party?"

I shook my head, as I'd had dinner with all of them and then left. I wasn't there for the party-party to start; it was my night off. Dame was his best man, had to stay.

"That shit was a fuckin' joke and a half…He spent the whole night telling me about the renovations he was doin' on his crib...Tits and ass all around, and he's talking about wallpaper."

"Yo, you spoke to my son about some shit?" I asked.

He rolled his eyes. "He asked me what you were doing to his mom—thought you were hurting her 'cause Maggie's mad loud." Dame quirked a brow. "Gag her."

I narrowed my eyes.

"Anyway, I said youse were having sex. Then, I got a follow-up question, and I said it's where babies come from. End of story. That was it. But that shit wasn't as awkward as…this Ant shit." He held his stomach and laughed. "Oh my God…you shoulda seen his face when I talked about eating pussy. I thought he was gonna puke. Ehhhhh." He shook his head rapidly, leaving his tongue out, motorboating the air. "I mean, could you imagine? You'd stick a nine in your mouth before a cock."

Morbidly curious, I brought my voice down. "They _really_ fuck?" It's not as if I know many gay people besides Ant and AJ. Unlike AJ, who's now married to a woman, too—Ant's never been with a woman, only ever liked men, and he's known that since he's fourteen. And if I _had to be_ with a man…? To me, that's disgusting. I'd rather blow my brains out. "What's AJ again? What do they call that?" I forgot.

"AJ's bi, bisexual." He stared at me. "Do you live under a rock?"

I ignored that question. "Ant don't talk about her with me—besides saying he's legit in love with her, despite not having a cock. I dunno."

"He told me that, too, and I don't see the appeal. That girl's dumb, like…sixth grade dropout stupid." He shook his head. "Jordan hates her—says she flirts with me. I don't see it, nor do I pay attention."

"Maggie, too." I jerked my thumb to the house. "Says she's gotta staring problem, but that could be them commiserating with each other..."

"That's a big word for you." He patted my shoulder.

I gave him the finger.

Then Dame's back door opened.

Jordan came out in her bathrobe with my baby niece. "You wanna let her sleep early 'cause it's_ easier_ for you…so you can get laid." She plopped the kid in Dame's arms. "You can stay up all night with her."

"Damn," I whispered.

"Smoke around my kid, and I'll kill you." She walked back into the house.

"Headache," Dame said, looking down to his daughter. "I rocked Cara to sleep, set Izzy up with her 'toons, and I thought I'd finally get some...Jordan said today, but...headache."

"Must be some headache," I commented, reaching to tickle Cara's side. She didn't do nothing. I didn't even get one of those gas smirks. "This kid don't budge." I went for her chubby thighs. "Laugh for Uncle Sonny…" I crooned.

She just stared at me—her eyes going from mine to my hands.

"Eh…Jordan's on a diet, which means she's basically starving. I fuckin' hate it." Dame peeked into Cara's diaper to see if she was wet. "No pee-pees," he sang. "She gets moody, being hungry all the time, and when she's moody...I'm not allowed to touch her...and she said tonight, but then I fucked-up." He frowned. "She doesn't have to like me...She can still fuck me, though." Dame nodded. "We're married. She's gotta fuck me...I only need five minutes of me on top. Then I'll leave her alone." He laughed to himself. "Mommy's mad at me, too," Dame told his daughter.

Cara leaned forward to bite his glasses, slobbering on his nose.

"She doesn't have to fuck you." I chuckled. "She doesn't have to do anything...Work for it, be sweet, romantic."

Dame adjusted his glasses. "I am romantic...I _can_ be, but she don't buy into that shit. If I vacuum, unload the dishwasher, clean a few diapers...that gets her wet. I dunno...She starts dieting and then she just feels worse about herself. Why is that?"

"Just make her eat something, tell her she's gorgeous, and she don't need to diet. That's what I do to Maggie." Jordan's never really been my type, but she's a cool chick—I love her. "She is beautiful. No need for her to be like that."

"That's what I tell her," he told his daughter. "You gonna smile for Daddy?" He kissed her neck until she squealed. "That means my kid just hates _you_."

"Nice." I smiled.

The window opened above us—Dame's bedroom. "Just because I'm home doesn't mean you get to do nothing. Chillin' with your cousin and now this one." She slammed the screen closed.

Damion was staying real calm, like he'd smoked a joint and not a cigarette. "I should go inside." He nibbled on the baby's fingers, but his voice was a dull monotone.

"You okay?" I asked. "Mom'll take Beth this weekend, too—that's what I wanted to hammer out with you."

The screen opened again. "Izzy's looking forward to the sleepover." Jordan heard me. "She's welcome any time . . . And, _you—_" Jordan sounded like a demon "—bring me my daughter!" She barked that last bit down to Dame.

"Your daughter?" He looked up to her. "She's mine, too, woman. And would'ju pipe down?"

Jordan smiled. "Give Sonny the baby for a minute."

Dame stood from his chair, moving away from the house, and holding his daughter close. "You're gonna throw something at me. I'm not stupid."

The window closed.

I widened my arms, knowing this isn't like them, not really—although I'd never seen them actually argue before.

"Ah, geez…I fucked up so bad before. She's really pissed. It's not diet bullshit, hunger induced mood swings." He kept his voice hushed. "I'm fucking dumb, man. It's the second time I've done it, too. _We_ talk, _we_ decide something…Then, I get around Mom…I dunno. She's my mom, and Mom always has such good advice. Why not listen to her?"

I palmed my face. "You're married now. You gotta side with your wife—no matter what, or you're sleeping on the couch…And, what are you? A fuckin' momma's boy? Man-up, bro." I shook my head. "Mom's almost like my kids, okay? You give the woman an inch, and she takes a mile. She always means well, has the best intentions, but that's just how she is. Fuckin' Dad'll tell you the same shit."

Dame rested his lips to Cara's hair. "Daddy's a wimp…and all you women drive me crazy."

She actually answered him, babbling, although no one knew what she said—that baby gibberish.

"That's right!" Dame agreed with her, looking to me. "Izzy's already giving me attitude—fuckin' four years old." He groaned and then sniffed the air before his nose went to Cara's diaper. "Just a fart..." He looked to me. "You shoulda seen the dump she took the other day."

I chuckled. "Yeah...Soon, I'll be changing diapers again." It's been two years since I've had to deal with diapers.

"It was crazy!" His eyes widened. "Like a grown man—a bear shit. She shits like a bear, like she eats garbage." Dame cracked himself up. "It went all up her back...Geez." He shook his head. "Who knew that was going to be my life?"

I didn't know what he was getting at. "Huh?"

Dame sighed, looking back to me. "I had no idea that...my relationship to the vagina was gonna be me cleaning shit outta a tiny one someday." He hung his head.

A boisterous laugh escaped me.

"No one tells you that when you're about to be a dad...Every time she shits, it goes straight up her twat." Cara started with the gibberish again. "Yeah, you." He poked her belly. "I'm just joking...but it is an ironic turn of events."

"How long has it been?" I whispered. "Isn't it easier—less stressful now that she's home?"

"We're still busy all the time. Most days...I'm working ten, sometimes twelve hours. By the time we get in bed, we're beat, exhausted." He blew out a breath, ruffling his messy hair. "The weekends are somehow just as crazy. Well...I got some last week. A quick quickie, like I was playing peek-a-boo pussy . . . My daughters just know!" he exclaimed. "Izzy's busy doin' something. We sneak away, and then she's knocking on our bedroom door. This one—" he kissed the baby's hair "—starts crying, and then it all goes to hell. Jordan gets frustrated and I get blue balls. But she said tonight...and I had to piss her off." He cringed.

"Why don't you—" I shut up when the back door opened.

Jordan came out again to glare at my brother and snatch the baby.

Once she went back inside, I leaned into Dame. "I think…this is what _I_ think." I touched my chest. "I think Jordan wants you to go inside."

He pursed his lips.

"Trust me," I said.

"If not, you'll find me sleeping by your pool." He went for the door as I stood up. "Where are the cushions for those chairs? It rained yesterday, and Maggie—"

"Just go. She's not gonna kick you out. Jordan's a smart woman. She'd rather make you miserable." I tried to hide my smile, knowing I was correct. They're cute together.

"How'd everything go today? With Carli's future in-laws?" he asked. "I forgot to ask about it...The Maisanos?"

"Fine," I said. "Nicky's a nice guy…" I remembered what Dad had asked me before, and Dame just knows this shit—he's more cultured, I guess. "Dad thought he was gay."

"Nick?" he laughed. "Hell no, he ain't gay…Carli says he likes to tie her up, which…" Dame grinned, putting his hands up, at a loss for words. Then he snickered. "Goodnight." He paused again but opened the door. "You think that's hot?"

"Is what hot?" Jordan heard him.

Dame didn't answer her, his eyes slowly trailing back to mine. "You got any rope?"

"Goodnight, Damion." I smiled.

He barked out a laugh, closing the door behind himself.

I looked up to my own bedroom window. The lamp was still on, a glow to the room, which meant Maggie was still awake. I just hope Sonny was either asleep so I could move him, or maybe he'd already be in his own bed.

After locking up and taking a piss, I kept my steps light as I walked past my kids' bedrooms.

The wife was still in bed reading, and Sonny was sprawled out on my side. "Am I sleeping in his bed?" I asked.

Maggie giggled. "I don't know, Big Sonny. Are you?"

My stomach got all excited.

_That was basically a sex invite, right?_

Without another word, I picked Sonny up and brought him to bed. He woke up, but he was groggy.

I winced and danced in the hall while he took a piss. He might go back to my room afterward.

To my surprise, our eldest schlepped back to _his_ bed, landing face first. That little fucker must have been tired.

No matter, I tucked him in, shut off his light…

Then I hauled ass to my bedroom. "Hey…" I closed the door behind myself to lock it.

"Leave it open."

"Huh?" I asked, staring.

She reached to turn off the lamp, quick to ease down on her left side. "It'll be stuffy."

"We have central air," I said, kicking off my sneakers.

Maggie hummed. "And I want more air…I'm hot."

I threw my T-shirt into the hamper and opened the door, leaving it open halfway.

"Can you…um…"

"Yeah." I finished taking off my basketball shorts before I went to the thermostat. The temperature was sixty-seven. It hadn't gotten down to sixty-five yet.

I decided to leave it alone, wondering how much it's in her head.

_Eh…I pushed it once, bringing it down another degree._

So far, it's been a hot summer, and it's supposed to get hotter. Especially this week, but it wasn't too bad outside just now.

Either way, I crawled into bed and leaned over Maggie.

"No," she said.

"What?" I smiled, thinking she was joking.

"Go to sleep."

"Maggie, baby…" I kissed along her neck. "You'd deny me?" It was like the first time ever, and I felt this emptiness, this sadness inside. "Seriously?"

Even in the dark, I could see her smile. "I love you."

I nuzzled my nose to hers. "I love you, too." Maybe she just needs to get going. "You're so sexy," I whispered into her ear, all breathy-like. "Gorgeous." My hand roamed down her side.

Maggie let out a small shudder, tilting her head away. "The kids are asleep, and I'm exhausted, so no."

"What?" I huffed, sitting back. "The kids are asleep, they're not in our bed—that's a green light, a good thing."

Maggie groaned, turning on the lamp, but she couldn't really get up. "Help."

With ease, I sat her up. "What's wrong?"

She licked her lips, placing her hair behind her ears, and her cheeks were flushed. Maggie was either really hot, or hot _and_ bothered. After having three children, my wife doesn't blush that much anymore. "The kids are asleep. I'd like to go to sleep, since I know this might be my last night of sleep—uninterrupted sleep for months. Okay? We fuck now; I might go into labor." She looked to the clock. "I'm not having this baby tonight, Santino. Nope. I wanna sleep, and my feet are swollen…my hemorrhoids hurt 'cause I'm constipated as fuck. It sucks."

"Well, when you break it all down like that." I still didn't like it; she didn't turn me off at all.

"Beth wakes you up every morning. Tomorrow, you're gonna get up with her, feed the kids breakfast. Get them dressed, bring them to your parents' house. Then…I'm thinking you should be done with that by like eleven?" she asked. "Anyway, you come back—we can fuck as much as you want. We'll have a nice, quiet lunch . . . I'll likely be in labor by three, I'll give birth by seven…you know, give or take." She waved a hand. "But I'm not having this baby tonight, and you're not going to let the kids wake me up. Got it?"

Taken aback, I nodded. "Shit…All right."

She smiled, landing a smooch on my lips. "Thank you, baby."

"Can you show me your boobs and I'll jerk off on 'em?" It was valid inquiry from a desperate man.

"Ugh." She pushed me. "Go watch porn."

"That's not fun." I'm boring. Porn doesn't interest me. "It's not the same. I wanna see_ my_ tits."

"Tough." She turned off the light. "I'm not saying no. I'm just saying not right now."

"That's still no," I laughed.

"Was that Jordan screaming before?" she asked.

I bit my lip, contemplative. "Show me one boob, and I'll tell you all the gossip."

"Oh…" she whined. "Why can't you just hold me and tell me the gossip anyway?"

"Oh…" It was my turn to whine again, mostly to tease her; she just had to up the ante by being all…Maggie-like. "Come here." I scooted closer to my baby.

"Eh…you think you're so smart," she giggled. "Jordan will tell me."

I lied to my side, gathering her into my arms. "You know I'm just kidding. I'm not an animal."

"Yeah, you are. You're my Santino-Beast. It's not that I don't want you. I just don't want you right now," she explained.

I buried my nose in her hair, refusing to say anything. "Goodnight…I'll tell you all the gossip you want tomorrow. You go into labor, we're gonna need shit to talk about."

"Good idea." She held my forearms. "What do you think about the name Michael? Like, the archangel?"

"I like Mikey…It's cool." I knew we wouldn't be picking a name until the kid popped out. Our eldest was a boy. Traditionally, we named him after me. When Eddie was born, he looked like an Eddie, but we'd planned to name him after my father anyway. Bethany…Well, Maggie swore she looked like her grandmother, so we named Angelface after her. "What about Carlisle?" I asked. Over the years, I've grown even closer to my uncle, and there's no kids named after him.

"That's like…jinxing our kid before he's born," Maggie said. "He'll grow up to be a pervert."

"No." I shook my head. "What about Robert? After your father?"

"I like Michael better. I dunno . . . Your phone's vibrating." She pointed.

I lifted my head, trying to hear my cell in my chest of drawers. "Ignore it." I kissed her cheek, hugging her tightly yet gently.

There was no way I was doing anything, or going anywhere but to sleep; however, my phone kept serenading us.

"It might be important...or turn it off," she sighed, pushing my arms away. "I'm hot again—sorry."

I nibbled on her bicep, the skin there. "Why don't you take a cool shower...? I'll help, wash your back...wipe you down with a cold cloth." My dick stood at half-mast just thinking about that. "I'll wash your hair." I kissed her sweaty neck.

Maggie _was_ overheated. "I'm too tired…" She flung the blanket and sheet off.

I sighed, leaving the bed, and I was surprised to see my brother-in-law blowing up my phone. "What's up?"

"I'm outside," Gio said.

Staring at the ceiling, I felt exasperated. "What's up?"

"Can you let me in?" he asked.

"Kylie kick you out again?" I snickered, going toward our bathroom. While Gio ran his mouth, these little whimpers kept escaping, like he was crying. "Go to your dad's." I turned the cold water on, letting it run while I placed a washcloth under it.

"I just need somewhere to go for...fifteen minutes. Then I'll go home—"

"I'll be right down." I hung up on him.

Joining Maggie again, I sat next to her and lifted her hair to place the cool rag down. She hummed, a grin on that face, and she reached to feel along my abs with her eyes closed. "You're so fucking sexy…my God. Put a shirt on."

I smiled, bending low to give her an Eskimo kiss. "Gio's downstairs."

She rolled her eyes. "Kicking him out worked once. It made him come back and apologize…What'd he do? It's Gio." Even Maggie knows Kylie has that dude by the balls.

Remembering something about a motorcycle, I didn't comment. "It's stupid, no doubt. And why's everyone gotta come here with their problems?" I wondered if my wife could answer that question.

"I dunno…but if Dame sees Gio's car, he'll be coming to the back door."

"He's in hot water, too." I snorted.

"Just try not to wake the kids. Chill outside."

I scraped my teeth along her jaw, giving smooches until I reached her ear. "I'll give him a beer, let him sit for ten minutes, and then I'm kicking him out. If Dame's up, they can hang next door." I thought about my dad. Besides that one time when Kylie was hysterical, legit upset, he hasn't stepped in. Then again, Kylie and Gio really don't fight. They're another couple who don't have any _real_ problems but argue about bullshit.

_Don't we all?_ I thought.

Maggie and I, we don't fight, not since I lost my head. I'm scared shitless of losing control, and it's almost like my body knows that—my brain knows that.

Plus, Maggie caught a cold, a bad sinus infection the week after that night at Midnight Sun. It wasn't my fault, but she got really sick, and I felt guilty about that, too.

Every year, when school starts, one of the kids get sick before fucking October. It was Maggie's turn, and she was pregnant a second later. But, yeah, my wife's pretty fertile, even with the pills. Remembering back, she got pregnant two years ago, when Beth was around two. However, that baby wasn't meant for us—as per my mother. My wife miscarried when she was nine weeks, which was devastating to say the least. It was just fucking sad as fuck. Luckily, we hadn't told the kids yet.

After that, we were really careful for a while. She's gotten the shot, but it made her gain weight. Then she tried the pill, and that worked for a while, but then she'd start to forget to take it.

I'd remind her. Every day. I know she's busy. We've got three kids. We have busy lives, but if she can remember to bust my balls about leaving the seat up on the toilet…

We found out about this recent pregnancy just before Halloween.

But we didn't tell anyone until she was three months along—the second trimester.

Well, my stupid brother made a comment, and I just blurted it. Maggie was showing a lot earlier with this pregnancy. She also knew that if she started wearing her signature maternity outfits, people would know.

Dame was leaving his house to go to the store. I was throwing out the trash. Maggie heard us talking, and then she came out to visit Kylie, who was over at Dame's. She also asked Dame to pick up a few things she needed from Rite-Aid. The kids were excited to make holiday cookies, and they needed more sprinkles. I don't know. My brother made a comment, something about Maggie gaining weight again, when she'd previously worked so hard to get rid of the extra pounds.

Maggie gained a lot of weight, and most of it wasn't baby, while she was pregnant with Beth. It really bothered her, and she drove herself nuts, doing that Weight Watcher shit, working out. I'd encourage her to cheat on her diet, make her eat sweets just because...I don't know. I was supportive because I wanted her happy. But her being so strict about what she ate frightened me. I wanted her to be healthy, comfortable in her own skin, and I hated that she'd get really close to the extremes—not eating and exercising twice as much. She managed to get down to her old size.

Maggie was beautiful, her body was incredible, but...I thought those things when she was heavier, too.

My woman is gorgeous. I love her more than anything else in this world, and her size doesn't change that.

She also kept going, wanted to lose fifteen more pounds.

That was when I told her to stop.

My wife heard Dame's dumb ass, saying she was getting "thicker," but she didn't comment.

When she walked away, I told him about the pregnancy; meanwhile, I really wanted to bop him one in the mouth.

_Making her self-conscious and shit. _

"Feel better?" I took the cloth to rub it down her arm.

"You're turning me on. Stop."

I raised a brow. "Uh…I can—"

"No." She gave me that sweet grin again. "I love you, my Santino."

"I love you, wife." My face likely lit up the room, instantly excited, feeling warm inside. "You want anything from downstairs?" I decided not to be a perv, get extra points for serving her—doting.

She glanced to the glass of water on the nightstand. "We have that berry punch in the fridge." That's her latest obsession. It's not food, just a sugary juice drink. "Oh, and Jordan made these deep fried Oreos—"

"When?" That sounded good to me, and I'm not that crazy about sweets.

Her face fell. "I'm selfish…I hid them behind the canned veggies in the pantry. Everyone would eat them all, and I'd have none." She rubbed the bump. "But, no. Leave them out for the kids—"

"You're not selfish," I laughed, thinking her nuts. If Maggie was starving, she'd give whatever morsel of food she had to whomever. "I'll be right back."

"Now I'll feel guilty eating them," she mumbled.

"I'll have one, and I'll ask—see if she's got a recipe, or any more?"

Maggie grabbed her book. "I should just go to sleep." And I knew she wouldn't knock out until she was comfortable.

"I'll be back with your snack." I pecked those lips.

Then I was fast to leave before I got stuck there, staring at her pretty face. It's happened before. _I_ have a staring problem.

Descending the stairs, I saw Gio on our stoop.

Without words, I let him in and locked up again.

The fried Oreos were exactly where Maggie had said they were, and I got her juice while also handing Gio a beer.

Silently, I took two steps at a time, rushing to get back.

My wife was actually dozing off, and I watched from the doorway. She must have felt me staring, jumping and letting out a loud snore. "Oh…"

I smiled, bringing the snack over to her. "Here you go."

"Thank you." Her chin wrinkled.

"Hey…" I tried to smooth it out with my thumb; I hate seeing her cry. "No."

Maggie sniffled. "I'm so uncomfortable." Unlike when it was our first time, Maggie knows her body—knows what labor pains feel like. I knew nothing was actually amiss.

And even if it was.

When Maggie was pregnant with Beth, she'd gone into labor in the early afternoon. She'd been with my mom, shopping and taking the boys wherever. But she was home when her water broke. My mother told me she was impressed with how calm Maggie was.

Case in point, I was at Eclipse when Mom called me. I was nervous, wanting to rush home. Dad was with me, and he's jumpy when it comes to babies, too. But Maggie got on the phone and told me to take my time.

She wanted to give the boys dinner, eat dinner herself, and take a shower first...'cause she hadn't shaved her legs, her armpits or something.

She'd meet us at the hospital.

Beth was born just a little after eight p.m.

"I know," I sighed.

"I just want some sleep," she whispered, taking a sip of juice.

"Here." I held up an Oreo, knowing that'd calm her down.

Maggie bit into it and groaned, her eyes brightening.

"Lemme get rid of Gio, and I'll give you a massage?" I chuckled.

"Okay." She had a mouthful, opening her book again. "Thank you."

When I met Gio in our living room, he was hiding his face, and I thought he was crying.

"What happened now?" I asked.

He shook his head, wasn't crying. "Can I speak freely?" Gio looked around for any kids, people.

I gestured he could, hoping he'd get on with it.

"You know Botz—Joey Botz whoever?" he asked.

"Old-timer, keeps to himself." He's one of the biggest earners with three sports books. I see him every week when he pays me. We sit down when there's a beef, nothing big. He's also a capo, runs his own crew out in Sheepshead.

"I hadn't seen him in a while…I dunno. I remember him from when I was little. He'd just be around with my dad. Anyway, he found out about Lala, that we'd had another baby." He rambled, like Kylie does, not getting to the fucking point. "Your dad was at Midnight Sun last night…You know that. You were there, too, but Botz was all, trying to gimme a baby gift, and I said it was unnecessary. Then he remembered some crap. I don't know. Something about when I was little I liked motorcycles…?"

"He got you a bike. Go on," I said. "He was only doin' that to cover his ass—not seem disrespectful to our pops'."

"Yeah," he agreed. "When I got home from work tonight—I called Ant, and he said he'd close the club. Lala's teething already…crying up a storm again."

I nodded.

Gio turned to look at my back door. "You hear somethin'?" He grabbed for his waist. "What the fuck is that?"

I knew what it was. "My brother's scratching at the door." I left the couch to let Dame in—Maggie called it. "What do you want?"

My brother was in boxers, nothing else, dressed just like I was—for bed. "Nothin'…I saw Gio—" he had the baby monitor tucked under his arm "—and I'm nosy."

"Why aren't you in bed with your wife?" I asked.

His face lit up like a Christmas tree as he backed out of my house. "I gave her the old pickle tickle, a quickie—" he punched the air "—thank God, and she lost the attitude...She's asleep." He lit a cigarette, fast to wave the smoke away from my crib. "Cara's still up, though . . . She's chillin', watching her video." Dame looked to the monitor. "This hi-tech shit is awesome…I wonder how far I can get with it."

I jerked my head, indicating Gio follow me out of the house.

They sat near my pool, but I ran back in to get a drink. I needed one—a scotch with mad ice, which would hit the spot.

Gio had been bringing Dame up to speed when I came back out.

"Yo…? I don't get a drink?" my brother complained.

I pointed to my house. "You know where the bottles are." He does not get served here. Damion and his family—Jordan and Izzy, too—have a way of always coming over, always being here. I don't care, and I know Maggie doesn't because she loves a full house—it's the same how Kylie makes her way down the block at least once a day, to visit one of our houses.

But if Dame thinks I'm serving him, he's lost his mind.

Dame pulled from his smoke, handed that to Gio, giving me the baby monitor before disappearing into my house.

"So, what happened?" I faced my brother-in-law.

Gio smoked Dame's cigarette. "Botz had a bike delivered to the crib today—before I'd even gotten home. It's fucking beautiful…but, apparently, I'm not allowed to keep it. It's too dangerous. Plus, Kylie threw a fit because…Yo, when I got my tax return back, I took her out to buy new clothes. Again, she doesn't need more clothes, but I know your sister likes to shop. The money I get from—what I do otherwise, besides my paycheck—I put it away. I hope my boys go to college. You know?"

I know exactly how much money Gio takes home—from this and that. He works for me; I'm the one paying him. He takes home plenty of cash, and he's not a made guy. He doesn't pay tribute. Technically, we _could_ tax him, but we don't. "There's nothing wrong with saving now. Wait, are you thinking about finding another gig?" I asked.

He furrowed his brow. "Having a normal schedule would be nice."

"What's that mean?" I raised a brow. "Talk to me."

Damion joined us, a bottle of Johnny Walker Black in his hand.

I ignored him, waiting on Gio to answer me.

"I thought when your father offered for me to manage Midnight Sun, that's all I'd be doing," he explained. "But mad shit happens there, almost too much. I do a lot more than manage. My father said that if I was going to get involved, I needed a skill—something to bring to the table." He showed me his palms. "Doing what I do—" He's a cleaner and that's pretty much it. It's also not like someone gets clipped every night. He might have to get his hands dirty once every few months. Most of the guys won't even use him, trust him since he's not made. "I'm a quarter of a wiseguy when I never wanted to be anything like it. And I do the shit _no one else_ wants to."

"You're complaining too much." Dame sipped from the bottle.

"No, I came here because…" Gio stared at me. "You're technically the head of the family now. As long as I'm involved in that one thing, your father's gonna think he can be involved in my marriage," he nearly shouted. "I'm asking you—as your brother-in-law and as one of your guys—set up a sit-down. I'm tired of walking on eggshells, worrying if Kylie and I bicker that my number's up."

Dame and I laughed at him. "You married the Skip's daughter. What'd you think was gonna happen?" I asked, not wanting to broker a sit-down for him at all.

Tell Dad to back off?

Gio had a better chance of seeing God dancing at Midnight Sun. Jesus Christ twerking by the deejay booth.

He scrubbed his face with his hand, reaching for the bottle Dame had. "All the hoops I've jumped through, all the bops to the grill…your sister is worth every one. I also love and respect your father like I do my own." He nodded, wincing when he swallowed the liquor. "This is nasty." He gave it back to Dame. "My father doesn't help at all, besides to make sure Skip don't snap and break my neck. My dad looks at me like I'm a monster if I make his Shortcake cry."

He groaned. "But it's not even that big an issue. The problem remains that I'm not wealthy. I don't have my stripes—a button. I brush against shit, which really isn't too bad. I'd give Kylie the world if I could. You know that, and I wanna make her happy, take care of our family by any means. I've had enough arguments with your dad about handouts. Kylie's my wife, the mother of my kids, and Daddy hands her money to buy…whatever. I don't like him trying to…" He waved a hand.

"Take care of your family." Dame finished for him. "Look, I'm lucky. Jordan goes shopping with the girls, and she only comes back with what we needed for our daughters, or me—whatever the case may be." He shrugged. "And I know Kylie, if she had the money, would shop for herself along with the kids…But she's not doing that. You're painting our sister this brat. Sure, she's had her moments. She was spoiled by our father, but you're not poor. You can shell out extra cash—give it to her."

I agreed with my brother. "Maggie has her own account—a household account. She's able to grocery shop, get whatever she needs." She also has access to all my hiding spots, where I hide all my cash, which she mostly uses. But I didn't wanna say that. It was no one's business. "Kylie has to actually _ask you_ for money—every dime, and you give her a hard time," I explained. "Like you don't believe her. Like, she's gonna blow it all on jeans. She is the mother of your children, your wife. Yes, she's had a charmed life…I just don't understand you, why you're so cheap." The truth is they're not poor. Maybe they're not wealthy or have cash hidden in places, but Gio takes home quite a few grand a week.

When he started, he wanted no hand in anything shady, illegal. He draws a salary, gets paid as if we'd hired a stranger to manage the club. He gets around eighty grand a year, which isn't bad, since he's hell-bent on living like a "regular" person.

Truthfully, he makes more than if we hired a stranger. He's my brother-in-law, and Dad agreed to hike his pay, too. Meanwhile, Midnight Sun runs itself in a way—book a few acts, keep an eye on employees. Gio does do this or that, acquires extra cash, basically working as a low-man on the side—he's technically on his father's crew. But there's a few aspects of the thing he can't be privy to, although I wish he was. He's a good guy—loyal and honest—and he's smart. Gio's also a good husband, and a great dad.

"You come home with a new bike…Did you tell her it was a gift?" I asked.

He shook his head. "She might—she doesn't know I do whatever I do."

"Kylie won't care, and I bet she knows already...She also knows better than to ask." Dame added. "Hell, she loves money so much, I bet she'd do some shit for cash," he laughed. "You never know. She's cute and cries when she's mad, but she's gotta temper."

"So, she's wearing old clothes, and you got a new motorcycle?" I laughed. "Look, sell the bike, and split the money with her, or just give the money to her. What's it to you? Nothing. It's not worth the hassle, or the argument."

"That's a good idea," Dame said. "Once school starts, she's gonna be running the salon again, which is crap. Lala'll be chillin' on the counter while she works the tanning salon? What's wrong with her staying home?"

"Kylie wants to work." I know that because she'd told Maggie. "She wants her own money. She doesn't want problems with this one." I jerked a thumb; meanwhile, my father set up an account for Kylie.

It's in her name. He wants to just give it to her, keep it a secret from Gio, but he's been holding back. He wants it to stay a secret, just in case Kylie ever decided to leave her husband—Gio won't have access to it. But he knows she'll tell Gio.

I have a trust set for Maggie, too—God forbid something happens, she's set for life, my kids will be as well. Dame has all that information, will give it to Maggie if anything ever happens.

More often I wish my brother went to law school, that he was more involved. I'd never ever tell him that, though. I'd never plant ideas in his head, nor would I tempt him.

He's got a nice life. He's happy, and I'd never fuck with that.

I can't help but feel my brother would be a great _consigliere_, or even my second-in-command.

As it is, Dad's still looked at as the boss by some, respected as such, too—I don't mind that at all. I love how things have changed, actually—how it's more democratic having us both at the top, how what we do confuses the Feds even more. They don't know what's going on. And as it is, I don't have a successor. Something happens and my death is untimely, Dad'll just take over again.

"Oh, but I bet if she works, runs around to take care of the kids—you'll just complain if dinner isn't ready." Dame stared daggers at Gio. "Make up your fuckin' mind, yo . . . You want her to be a housewife or have a job, and don't bitch when she does both, and then one or both are lacking. She's a good mother, raises your babies. She's a good wife, giving up the goods whenever you want." He counted off his fingers. "She knows you work and you gotta work—doesn't complain about you not being home. Take her shopping, bro, or we'll have problems." Dame was really upset, got up and walked toward his house.

"Hey," I called him back, and we exchanged items—the baby monitor for the bottle of JWB. "Goodnight."

"'Night-night." He patted my head, glaring at Gio again.

I watched him go before turning back to Gio. "I know you wanna earn an honest living." I hated to admit that. "I know you wanna stand on your own…you feel torn, you're doing the best you can with what you have." Things would be a lot easier if he was truly one of my guys. I'd hook him up so well, these little stresses wouldn't be a problem. He'd have enough money for Kylie to burn.

"Hey, I haven't complained about dinner not being on the table in a very long time. I learned that lesson with how fussy Lala was when he was born." All that kid did was cry the first three months of his life. I don't know how Kylie coped with that. "I've known Kylie my whole life. I've loved her my whole life. She _has_ changed. She's a lot more mature and responsible, but if I give an inch…"

"She's like our mother," I muttered.

"Last time I gave her a credit card, I came home to new furniture." He waved a hand. "There was nothing wrong with the couch we had. I'm into saving that in which we don't spend to actually live…you know?" He blew out a breath. "I'll sell the bike."

"Good," I said.

He stood up to leave. "Any chance you wanna buy it?"

I laughed. "A motorcycle? Maggie would kill me herself—save me the money for gas."

After I locked up again, I went into the kitchen to peruse what leftovers we had. While I picked at some sausage and peppers, I peeped the time. It was pretty late, and Beth was gonna wake me up early.

I licked the grease from my fingers as I got back in bed.

Maggie was fast asleep, but I rubbed her back anyway—easy, hoping I didn't disturb her. She'd moan and lean into my hands, but she must have been exhausted. Even if the past couple days all she's doing is hanging by the pool, it's mad hot out. They haven't been able to actually go anywhere, what with waiting for the baby to get here.

I dozed off when my hand landed on her ass, my nose buried in her hair.

* * *

**Thank you for reading. **

**Please leave me your thoughts.**


	15. Santino Chapter 5

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

* * *

**"Back in the Saddle"**

**Chapter Five**

**Sonny/Santino**

I woke up to little fingers probing my nose. "Daddy…" Beth whispered. "Move over."

Remembering what Maggie said, I sat up in bed to look at the clock. It was close to nine, not as early as usual. "Let's let Mommy sleep." I stopped Beth from getting in bed. We usually cuddle for a bit when she wakes up.

"Okay." Beth tiptoed over to Maggie's side.

"Hey…" I snapped my fingers.

"I wanna give Mommy and the baby a kiss." She didn't whisper.

"I'm up." Maggie rasped. "Good morning, Angelface."

"Thas'a me," Beth giggled, coming closer to give her a kiss.

"Daddy's gonna give you cereal." Maggie sounded half asleep.

"Okay." Beth ran from the room.

I stretched when I got up, quick to take a piss.

Maggie was still in bed when I left our bathroom. "You gotta get up to pee?" I asked.

"Oh, you know I do." She grumbled.

I smiled, going for those lips as I helped her up.

Maggie grinned when our mouths met, but her head lolled to the side. "I hafta have this kid today…I'll drink some hot sauce, and you'll fuck me silly."

"Definitely." I pulled her to her feet. "When you're done, go back to bed."

She nodded, waddling into the bathroom, looking so cute again.

I let out a sigh and left our bedroom.

When I got downstairs, I caught our daughter trying to open the back door. She can't reach the top lock, but still. "Hey!" I exclaimed, which made her jump. She'd been caught. "What are you doing?"

She pouted, pushing her belly out. "I wanna have cereal wiff Izzy."

"Izzy's probably still asleep—" I hadn't even gotten the rest of my words out before there was a knock. Sighing through a groan to soothe myself, I opened the door for my brother and his daughter.

"Beff!" Izzy pushed to get out of Dame's arms.

"Shhh," I said. "What's this?"

Dame wore a smirk, placing Izzy down, and the two girls ran for the kitchen. "I caught this one and that one talking out their windows. There's mad toys in your driveway, bro—they were trying to share from across it. The safety bars got in the way." He shook his head. "I was takin' a piss and then I caught Izzy tryin'a open the back door."

"Uh…" My car was in the driveway, Maggie's minivan in the garage. "Did they fuck up my car?" I didn't even wanna look.

Dame made a face, like I was nuts. "'Cause Barbie's fat ass might dent your hood." He walked toward my kitchen, too. "Did'ju make breakfast?"

I trailed after him. "No…it's a cereal morning."

Littlest Eddie ran down the stairs, jumping the last three steps, which meant Sonny would be down soon.

"Come here." I grabbed my son, needing a Littlest Eddie hug and a smooch. "I love you." He's such a cuddly kid.

My son giggled, wrapping his arms around my neck. "I love you, too, Daddy."

"Good," I said.

"Can we go in the pool?" He leaned away to face me.

I kissed his cheek, placing him down on a chair. "It's too early. We gotta go to Na-Na and Pop-Pop's after breakfast. Then…you ask Na-Na if youse can go in her pool."

"Ooh, I wanna go!" Izzy raised her hand.

"Me too." Beth slunk back in her chair, taking the cereal box with her.

I didn't say anything, knowing my parents would take all of them.

I felt like a card dealer, dealing out bowls and spoons to everyone. Then I took out the milk and every box of cereal we had.

Littlest Eddie and Damion fought over who could have the toy in the Kix box.

"It's mine," Sonny announced. "Ed got the last one." He poured himself some juice.

My brother was just breaking balls and tossed it over to my eldest.

Little hands were raised everywhere, stopping Little Sonny from putting the OJ back. He was about to grab some plastic cups, but I took over.

"Me too." Dame grinned.

I gave him the last of the carton.

All in all, it wasn't too hectic. The kids kept the decibel level down to an extent—ensuring Maggie got some rest.

After I got my coffee ready, I sat with them, stealing Beth's seat so she sat on my lap.

And I loved this, all of us together. Only thing that would make this morning better was if Maggie joined us, if my parents, Kylie, and her sons came over. I love the closeness, family always having been most important to me.

Once I walk out of this house, I am who I am, who I have to be, but I love nothing more than being Daddy, Maggie's husband.

That one night months ago, which was almost an entire year ago, lines were blurred.

With my wife on my arm, I had to be the boss, and I lost my temper.

That night haunts me . . .

_With force, I shoved Maggie into the office. "What'd you do?" I shouted. _

_She cowered away from me, walking backward to get behind the desk. "I, um, I—"_

_Angry, livid, I took three large steps to take ahold of her hair. "You put that shit in your body! After watching me struggle, after—" My teeth gnashed together, my heart breaking. "Get away from me." I pushed her. _

_"San-Santino…I'm sorry." She reached for me, crying her eyes out. _

_When there was a knock at the door, I opened it, welcoming my cousin Anthony and Gio. They flanked Jose, a dealer who's no stranger to Midnight Sun. He supplies most that come through this door with whatever their hearts' may desire. _

_And he'd spent the entire night chillin' with my wife, eye-fucking her, following her around. _

_Worse than that, she allowed it, encouraged it by smiling at him and— _

_As soon as he walked over the threshold, I grabbed his shoulder. "Sonny, bro—what's up?" He was nervous, and I loved the fear I saw in his eyes. _

_I brought him over to Maggie. "He gave it to you?" I asked. _

_My wife gulped, refusing to meet my gaze. _

_"It's okay," he told her._

_I yoked him up by his collar to get in his face. "You don't talk to her. You don't fucking look at her—"_

_"Santino, stop." She placed her hand on my forearm. "He didn't do anything! Don't hurt him." _

_I smirked. "Don't?" Stepping back, I took my nine from my waist. "You care about this fuck?" My eyes bore into Maggie's. "He's your man or something now?" Jealous, angry and heartbroken—grabbing Jose's hair, I dragged him to Maggie's feet. "You give a fuck? You're ready to beg for his life? You care?" _

_Maggie's lip quivered, her breaths quickening. "I was just—I was tired. Vinny said—"_

_"Leave her outta this!" Ant hollered. _

_My head whipped back and forth. "Out!" _

_Anthony and Gio were fast to leave. _

_I looked back to Maggie, wanting to know the rest of the story, and she was staring down to Jose. "See somethin' you like?" I ducked my head to meet her gaze. _

_"No, no," she pleaded. "I asked him for it. It's my fault. I was stupid." _

_"Yeah, you were," I agreed. "You don't put that shit in your body!" A chuckle escaped me. "What'd you do for it?" _

_"I paid for it—" _

_I didn't believe her, since I knew she'd been out of my sight for a while, disappearing with this fuck. _

_"I'll never do it again. I'll never do it again." She shook her head. "Just let him go. You don't wanna—"_

_Jose was on his knees in front of her, and before she could finish or continue, I placed the barrel of my nine to his hair. _

_Maggie let out a scream, backing into the wall, Jose's blood splattering her legs. Our friend fell forward, landing on his face. _

_"Oh my God. Oh my God…" she cried, using tissues to wipe at her legs. "What did you do?" Maggie sobbed and then she held her chest. __"I can't breathe. I can't breathe—I'm having, having a heart attack." She wheezed, drawing more air into her lungs._

_As angry as I was...worrisome thoughts plagued me, and I grew concerned for my wife. _

_Nevertheless, her cries were ignored._

_I knew she was just in shock and not having a heart attack, but . . . __I couldn't look at her._

_Turning away from Maggie, I called Damion a million times before phoning Aro, but then my brother called me back. We spoke while I continued to draw in deep breaths, needing to calm down myself. _

_Maggie wouldn't listen. _

_She didn't heed my warning about maintaining her distance. My pleas were ignored as she kept pushing my fucking buttons. _

_I don't remember dropping my phone, wrapping my hands around my wife's neck...squeezing it. _

_But it happened. _

_And what stopped me . . ._

_Her face was nearly purple as she clawed at my hands, gasping for air I wouldn't allow her to breathe. _

_I saw the fear in her eyes and snapped out of it._

_Still, I can't recall the short moments that led me to do such a horrible thing. I don't even remember what was said over the phone to my brother. _

_I must have blacked out, but that's no excuse. _

"Sonny?" Dame nudged my bicep. "Where'd you go?"

Feeling a lump in my throat, I avoided his gaze. "You're done?" I asked Beth, seeing her empty bowl.

She nodded, rubbing her belly. "I'm full."

"Okay." I wrapped my arms around her, hugging her tight, my lips lingering on her cheek.

"Sonny_—" _

"I'm fine," I told Dame.

Knowing Beth hadn't brushed her teeth, I instructed her to do it. "Get dressed, too."

"Brush my teefs myself?" Beth had wide eyes.

"You're a big girl...you should know how." I nodded. "Just a little bit of the bear toothpaste." Hers has a bear on it.

Beth was excited. "I am a big girl."

"You are." I smiled. "You can do it." There might be a mess, but she has to learn, take the initiative to brush her own teeth. That's the way I looked at it. "Just like we do every morning."

"Not fair, Daddy." Izzy wore a pout as she stared up at Dame. "How come I can't_—"_

"It's not because you _can't_ do it, but because you _won't..._if we let you brush alone," he answered her unspoken question. "Go with Beth, make sure she does it."

"I'm gonna do it." Beth sounded sassy, placing her hand on her hip.

"Yeah!" Izzy cheered. "And I can pick out her clothes." She pointed to herself.

"No," Beth giggled, walking up the steps.

"Yes," Izzy argued, following her.

I chuckled, getting to my feet.

Yesterday, Maggie told me she'd packed a bag for Beth and put it in the hall closet. My brother followed me when I went to grab it. "All her stuff is in here." I handed him the Little Mermaid suitcase.

"You all right?" he asked.

I pushed my hair back, ruffling it. "Yeah, I'm good—" I saw Maggie making her way down, her steps slow. "You okay?" My wife was dressed, ready to go somewhere, which was a surprise to me.

Unless…?

"I'm fine. It's not time yet." Her hand trailed the banister as she came down.

"Any minute, though." Dame smiled. "Beth'll be fine. We're gonna order pizza later and watch movies, or we might go to Mom and Dad's, chill by the pool." He faced me.

"Sounds like fun," I said.

Maggie blew out a breath, meeting up with me.

Remembering to be gentle, I hugged her tight, feeling tears prick my eyes. "Did you sleep good?" I shook it off, not wanting to get emotional.

My wife leaned away. "Yeah, thank God. I slept great…in your arms." She rubbed her hands up my chest, her eyes settling on my abs.

It made me smile. "Pervert," I whispered.

She giggled. "Can you call Chris?" she spoke of her driver. "I won't subject you to it." She continued to speak as she walked into the kitchen.

Dame's eyes went wide when Maggie mentioned church, going on and on about confession.

He's so nosy.

But thinking of my past transgressions, I wondered if going to confession could erase that night from my memory. It's something I replay every day at different times. Maggie and I have spoken about that night at great length. I've apologized a million times, meaning it _every_ time.

Maggie just wanted to forget about it.

Ironically, my very Catholic wife didn't give a fuck about my killing Jose.

She worried I hated her, that I'd leave her, like that could ever happen.

I'd scared her.

"I'll take you," I said. "Lemme get dressed."

"Really?" Maggie was surprised, pouring herself some berry punch.

"Yes," I said, landing a smooch on her cheek.

Looking to the boys, I saw Sonny coloring in his book—cereal forgotten—and Littlest Eddie was sipping the milk from his bowl. "Go brush your teeth and get dressed," I told them. "I wanna be outta here in ten minutes."

They raced for the stairs, Damion on their heels. "I'll check on the girls."

I nodded, eyes landing on Maggie. "What's up with confession?"

She puffed her cheeks. "Just…Sonny being worried, talking about death—"

My heart leapt into my throat. "Don't _you_ start talking about death."

She shrugged. "It was weird for him to say that. It came from left field, and it got me thinking is all."

"He's not psychic or anything. He's a little boy, trying to understand things. He has worries." I held her hand. "Don't think nothing of it."

"I'd still feel better," she whispered.

"Then, we'll go," I agreed. "How are you feeling? Still think today's the day?"

"He hasn't kicked once," she said. "He's in position." Maggie grabbed my hand, placing it low on her stomach. It was very hard under the surface, rock solid. "His head's on my bladder—right there." She'd been dropping lower and lower as these past few days have gone by. "I'm not in active labor yet. I'm probably still just two centimeters." She stuck out her tongue, stuck at two for what seems like a while now.

"I love you." I held her jaw. That face.

She tilted her head, her expression expectant, waiting for me to spill. "What's on _your_ mind?" Maggie can always tell.

I shook my head. "I just love you...and I hate all the...talking about death. It scares me," I whispered.

"Scares me, too...Let's not bring it up again_—_not until we're crazy old and have to do our wills or something." She grasped my sides, smiling up to me. "I love you." She nearly knocked me back, getting on her toes, trying to kiss me, the baby getting in the way. Maggie almost lost her footing, her balance not great; she can't see her feet.

We laughed out loudly when she placed her back to my chest, and I was able to hold her the closest that way.

"Lemme get ready to go." I landed a few loud smooches on her cheek, ending with a raspberry in her neck.

"Go...so we can get back home."

"Just us." I walked around her, smiling widely.

My wife gave my ass a slap.

"Hey!" I chuckled.

She winked, pouring herself some Cheerios.

Checking on Beth first, I saw Dame lounging on her bed while my daughter picked out toys she wanted to bring. My niece was helping her, practically emptying that trunk.

"Izzy has plenty of toys," I said.

With them the same age, they have the same toys, games, and dolls. Plus, they always want what the other has—acting like sisters rather than cousins.

"We wanna play wiff dees," Izzy explained, only her little legs and ass hanging out of the toy chest. She's a character just like Dame used to be. She looks like him, too, although our father thinks Izzy resembles his mother—Grandma Elizabeth. My niece has reddish hair and Dame's face, only she's got Dad's green eyes while Dame's are brown. "Look, Unka Sonny." She showed me a small container of Play-Doh. "You put away." She walked toward me.

"Yup...I'll take that. Thank you." I took it from her. We actually keep that shit in the closet, let the kids play with it at the table.

"I clean up," Beth said but there wasn't a mess. She's really neat for a child, and I love it. "Pwomise." She tried to stuff another Barbie Doll into the overflowing bag of toys she was packing.

"You're turning these kids into little neat freaks, like you." My brother chuckled, tossing a stuffed bear into the air.

I grinned, bending low to get Beth's attention. She was dressed already, but she didn't match. Her top was purple and yellow and she wore red shorts. Knowing she was wearing clean clothes is good enough for me, though. "You be good, okay?"

She puckered her lips and kissed me. "I pwomise, Daddy. I be good." She nodded.

Beth needed to leave before we did. For some reason, if she's going out, or to Dame's, it's okay. If she sees us _physically_ leave—get in the car and drive away—it's a total cry-fest.

Her long, brown hair was a mess, and I didn't want Maggie worrying about it. Beth has curly hair, which makes it a bitch to brush.

"If you wash her hair, you gotta use that detangler stuff," I told Dame.

"My mommy puts dat in my hair." Izzy petted her head. "See, how pretty?" She had bed-head, too.

"It's beautiful, Miss Izzy." On my knees, I walked over to her dresser to grab a hair band thing. "Come here."

Beth stood still while I gathered her hair into a ponytail. Alas, it's so thick, it didn't fit when I tried to pull it through the band once more.

My poor daughter moved her head along with me, giggling. "Daddy!"

"Sorry." I left it alone, a half ponytail, half bun thing. "You look gorgeous."

"Thanks." She touched her hair.

Izzy gasped. "Do me." She stood with her back to me.

I grabbed another band to repeat what I'd done. "There. You guys look amazing."

They giggled as they faced each other—none the wiser that their hair was a complete wreck.

"You don't do that often, do you?" Dame laughed.

"Nope," I admitted, getting to my feet. "Maggie tried showing me how to do a braid...I couldn't."

Izzy pulled on my hand to get my attention. "My daddy does my hair nice—the French kind."

"I bet he does." I smiled.

"French braid." My brother stood up, too. "It's not that hard. I'll show you." He looked around and brought his voice down. "Maggie'll be outta commission a while."

I waved a hand. "Nothin' wrong wit' a ponytail."

He quirked a brow, giving me a slight nod. "That's enough toys. We should get going."

"Can we go see Na-Na?" Izzy asked.

"Soon...Maybe. I don't know yet." He left the room, and the girls followed him out.

Izzy and Beth were both trying to hold that bag, although I can't imagine it was heavy.

"Gimme this." Dame stole it. He's right at home with his daughter and niece. He has more patience for them than he does his nephews; I know that.

Speaking of, when I left Beth's bedroom, Eddie was sitting on the floor in the hall, putting his sneakers on.

"Mommy packed a bag for you. Where is it?" I asked.

He turned to show me the knapsack on his back. "I got it."

I ruffled his hair. "You're a good boy, Ed."

His uneven smile was adorable. "Can we see the baby when it comes out?"

I nodded. "Yup. We'll get youse as soon as he's born."

"Cool." He made to go downstairs.

His brother was in the bathroom, fully dressed but brushing his teeth.

I left him to it, racing to brush my own choppers.

Without showering, I was ready in less than ten minutes.

The boys were downstairs, and Dame was still here with the girls—Beth hugging on to Maggie.

Jordan was here with the baby, too—drinking a cup of coffee at the kitchen counter.

"Feeling better this morning?" I kissed her cheek.

"Yeah." Jordan smiled at my brother.

"And you…" I tickled the baby's side.

She did nothing, just stared up at me, like she always does.

"This kid doesn't budge." I tried tickling her foot, under her chin—not even a smile.

"Can we test a theory?" Dame asked, lifting Cara. "Go to Uncle Sonny." He placed the baby in my arms.

I held her close, supporting her back that's not too steady just yet. "Hey, baby girl." I smiled.

She stared at me wide-eyed, trying to push against my chest—stay farther away from me.

"Oh, no…" Dame let out a breathy chuckle, getting close to Carolyn, taking her hand as she started to cry. "See? She hates you." He stole her back from me.

"Awww." Jordan pushed Dame's shoulder. "She just doesn't see you that often."

"Thanks." I smiled, appreciating that.

"She _wails_ when Dad holds her." Dame placed a kiss on her chubby cheek. "He's too loud."

"Remember when Sonny was a baby?" I quirked a brow.

Pop-Pop might be his best friend now, but when he was a baby he'd cry whenever my father held him.

* * *

**Thank you for reading. **

**Please leave me your thoughts. **


	16. Santino Chapter 6

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

* * *

**"Back in the Saddle"**

**Chapter Six**

**Sonny/Santino**

_**A**_fter we dropped the boys off at my parents' house, Maggie and I headed to church.

The doors were unlocked, which I found kind of weird.

"The church is just...open?" I asked.

"Yes." Maggie dipped her finger in the holy water, quick to do the Sign of the Cross.

I did the same . . . and it didn't burn my skin.

Maggie smirked up at me. "This neighborhood is probably the safest in Brooklyn." She grasped my hand. "Or...most dangerous, since _you_ live here."

I chuckled. "Right...I'll give my pops the credit, though." That's what's so great about Bay Ridge. No other fuckers wanna step foot in our 'hood, knowing they'd get stomped on. But people _knowing_ where we live could be seen as a bad thing, too.

When we entered the next set of double doors, I gazed at all the empty pews. It was so quiet, you could have heard a pin drop.

"Both lights are on." Maggie pointed, waddling over to the confessional booths.

She disappeared, and I wondered how big it was in there.

Nevertheless, I was quick to follow her lead again, entering the other booth to close the door.

A priest was on the other side of the screen, and he slid the partition over. I could make out his profile, just like I was sure he saw me. "Good morning," he greeted.

"Morning." I gazed to my phone to see it was half past noon, actually.

I rushed to get the kids ready for no reason. Sure, I was dressed, ready to go myself within ten minutes; however, the wife and the sister-in-law started running their mouths. The kids started running around the house. Dame ran outside to smoke a cigarette while Jordan was occupied, and I drank another cup of coffee.

Dropping the boys off was time consuming as well. I didn't want to go inside, but Maggie had to pee. It didn't matter that she went before we left. She had to go again, and then my mother accosted her. I stole half of Dad's English muffin. He wasn't happy about it, so I toasted another we could split.

The morning dragged and yet flew by...

"How long has it been since your last confession?"

"A while," I whispered, trying to do the mental math. "The last time I _truly_ confessed was probably twenty-two years ago." It was right before my confirmation—when I was still young enough to buy into this religion garbage. Going to a Catholic high school, I had to confess—I was made to by the nuns who taught us.

By that time, I was lying—making up sins.

No matter how badass I thought myself back then, I don't think I committed any immoral acts. Those came senior year and after high school. So, I used to confess to taking the Lord's name in vain, busting my father's balls, talking back to my mother, being a perv and a turd in general, whatever.

As a parent and an adult, I can look back and know that I wasn't a bad child.

_Kids are kids. Boys will be boys...blah, blah. _

"That's a long time," he commented.

I didn't reply.

Then he waited for me to start, for me to name my transgressions, and I came up short.

The words were in my head, on the tip of my tongue, needing to speak about that night.

But I couldn't.

Suddenly, I didn't see a need to do so.

Spilling my guts to this old fuck wasn't going to make me feel better.

_What the fuck was I doing in here?_

"Whenever you're ready." He cleared his throat.

"Gimme a second." I pushed my hair back, thinking it over once more.

"Son, are you troubled?" he asked. "Is there something else on your mind? You can just talk, and I'll listen."

When he faced the screen dividing us, I actually recognized him as Little Sonny's teacher from last year.

"Anything you share with me won't be disclosed." He'd recognized me, too, I guessed.

I chuckled. "Look, I'm sorry I wasted your time."

If there _is_ a hell, no amount of prayer would keep me out.

I'm not Robin Hood—robbing the rich and giving to the poor. I steal and scheme for personal gain.

I'm a criminal—white collar, but a criminal none the less.

I'm no Boondock Saint—killing and avenging in the Lord's name.

I've taken quite a few lives...

I don't remember all their names, nor do I care to do a headcount from memory.

_It's irrelevant._

Some were bad people, some were good people.

I've killed in cold blood and in self-defense.

I've clipped fuckers because I _had_ to.

I've iced some because I _wanted_ to.

There's no redemption so why bother asking for it?

Regardless, I don't feel badly about the things I've done.

But hurting Maggie...

Even if she's forgiven me, I can't seem to forgive myself.

"If you'd be more comfortable chatting in chambers—"

"No, thanks." Talking to this fucker face-to-face wasn't going to help. I decided to make a donation sometime during the week. "Thank you for your time." I left the stuffy space to see my wife sitting in one of the pews.

Maggie had her head bowed, as low as she could go, and her rosary beads clutched in her fists.

I walked over to take a seat next to her, and I rubbed her back while she mumbled her prayers.

Even if I think all of this is bullshit, I respect my wife's beliefs. I don't share my opinion about church, nor do I tell her that I truly don't have _any _belief structure, which might upset her—although I'm sure she knows. She doesn't shove catholicism down my throat.

Once upon a time, I told her how I felt about it, and it bothered her. Not because I didn't think the same as her, wasn't as religious. Maggie wishes I was spiritual, that I believed in God, not necessarily His church. That I just had faith in something..._Besides worshipping her body, which is truly my temple_.

She sees me a certain way—thinks I'm a great man. Maggie doesn't see a criminal, a murderer when she looks at me. She sees Santino, her husband, the man she loves despite how I make my money, and she believes that God believes in me—thinks everyone should be and could be forgiven for just about anything. As long as you ask God for forgiveness, you can receive it. Something like that. I don't know.

My wife wishes I'd talk to God myself, pray, just to get shit off my chest.

Still, both raised Catholic, we're raising our kids to be as well. No matter how I feel about it—I'm honestly just indifferent—for an hour a week, I put on a suit and accompany my family to church.

_Sin six days and go to God's house on Sunday. _

That makes me a hypocrite.

But if I don't go, Little Sonny won't go, and on goes that cycle.

_My attendance sets a good example. _

Minutes later, after Maggie finished her prayers, we walked outside. I didn't see any priests—Sonny's old teacher—on our way to the exit, nor had anyone else entered the church. I hated that I'd left my car unattended, so I ran to get it while my wife waited for me by the entrance. It was still in one piece, and it started up nicely.

"So...how'd it go?" she asked.

I pulled away from the curb. "All right."

"You didn't say anything, did you?" Maggie grasped my hand.

"What'd_ you_ say?" I asked. "Did you, uh…talk about that night? At Midnight Sun?"

"God, no!" she exclaimed. "I've been to confession since then, and all I've spoken about…in reference to that was…" She looked out the window. "I didn't honor you, which was one of our vows—"

"Maggie…" My shoulders slumped, feeling all the guilt weighing on them—that she'd blame herself. "I fucked up that night. You didn't. You were partying...and I—" I blew out a breath. "You honor me plenty." _More than I deserve,_ I thought.

She rubbed along my bicep, but we didn't say more about it.

* * *

_**W**_hen we arrived at our house, we were able to hear Dame and the girls. They must have been in his backyard, but we gave them no indication we were home. If Beth saw us, she'd run right over, which made us dash up the walkway.

Maggie giggled in the foyer. "When was the last time we were home alone? Just you and me?"

I smiled, locking the door. "I can't remember." My stomach tied in knots when I felt her hands glide up my back.

I turned around, bending low to search her eyes. "I love you." Just in case she forgot, I needed to remind her, and I still had all these thoughts flooding my dome. Usually, when I get flashbacks of that day, I push it away. We're very busy on a daily basis. There's no time for me to mope around, feel guilty...By the time we're alone, have privacy to spill our guts, it's no longer at the forefront of my mind.

I'd broached the subject in the car, but we never continued. I had all this shit in my head, all this guilt, and I'm still very ashamed of myself. We've spoken about that night before, and I wished I could move past it so badly. I knew I wouldn't be able to, not until we finished the conversation we'd started.

It's been eleven months since it's happened, for crying out loud.

But I didn't care if I was acting like a bitch, all sensitive 'cause I can't get over it.

I fucked up. I did something horrible. I hurt my wife, the mother of my children, which I consider to be the worst thing in the world.

Maggie furrowed her brow, reaching to palm my cheek. "Are you okay?"

Nodding yes—that I was fine—I swallowed the lump in my throat, but then I felt the tears coming…

I shook my head. "No...I'm not."

"Santino, talk to me," she whispered. "You know you can."

I brought her hand to my lips to kiss her knuckles. "I know." Maggie is my confidant, my secret keeper, my love, and my biggest cheerleader. She's my biggest fan, even when I don't deserve her admiration. Well, that goes both ways, I guess. I'm those same things to and for her.

Inhaling deeply through my nose, I tried to get my thoughts together. "Let's go sit."

With our hands joined, we trailed into the living room.

"You're scaring me," she murmured, having a seat on the couch.

I was quick to follow. "Don't be scared." I placed a soft kiss on her lips.

Maggie huffed, placing her hand on her chest. "Did you—um, were you unfaithful?"

"No!" I spat. "Fuck, no." That was hilarious. "No."

"Okay." She nodded, sitting back to rub along her bump. What's funny is that she _does_ trust me, knows I'd _never_, so I don't know why she asked. My answer pacified her quickly; she didn't really think I did.

I scooted closer to place my arm over her shoulders, sniff her hair. It always smells fantastic.

Maggie nestled into my side. "It's so quiet."

I smiled, agreeing, as I could still hear our daughter's laugh from a yard over.

"You brought up last year…" She let that hang there.

"Yeah...?" I wondered what her thoughts were on the subject.

"I wish you'd let that go." Maggie squeezed my thigh. "You're supposed to be ravishing me right now, helping me induce labor, not riddled with...guilt or whatever." Her words made me chuckle.

Placing her hair behind her ear, I met her gaze. "You know who I am. You know what I do...I've lied, I've stolen. I've killed." I waited for her to have a reaction, but her face remained stoic. "But…hurting you. I can't forgive, nor can I forget that." I had to clear my throat of the lump again. "I think about that night often."

"I know," she whispered. "I know you do, and I wish you wouldn't…I forgave you a long time ago, that same night. It's a murky, distant memory—something I don't like to think about. But, only because…for the first time since I'd met you, you weren't my Santino." Her chin wrinkled. "I didn't know who you were."

I wiped the tears out from under her eyes. "I know…I never wanted you to see that, see me lose my temper." Truth be told, even when we've argued about some serious shit, I'd never lost it. Maggie could be screaming at me, tearing me a new asshole, and I'd hardly raise my voice to reply.

When we were first married, and I was using…Fuck, I'd even scared myself back then. "I've flown off the handle so many times…" Names, faces, and scenarios flashed through my mind—those who've needlessly died by my hand when I snapped; however, I felt no remorse for that shit. Those motherfuckers had it coming. "But hurting you…baby, I…I'm so sorry."

"I know you are." She grinned up at me. "You wanna know how you can make it up to me?"

I gestured for her to continue.

"Forget about it." She shrugged. "It happened…Don't let it happen again."

"Okay," I said, and I silently hoped it never would. "I never _want_ to hurt you…I never want to make you cry, or upset." If I could make it so, my wife would never shed a single tear. "You worry about other women…" That shit was laughable again, but I refused to smile. "Baby, since the night we met…Halloween, at Midnight Sun…you were dressed as a fairy."

Maggie giggled, but I could tell she was holding back tears.

"I've been 100% devoted to you. I've loved you, and only you, since." I leaned to kiss her cheek. "You rock my world, baby…I don't want anyone else." I nuzzled my nose against her soft, yet heated, skin.

Maggie turned to catch my lips, which knocked our teeth together. Ignoring that, she grasped my shirt to pull me closer and kiss me deep. My wife moaned into my mouth, and then turned her head—her chest heaving up and down.

Moving her hair away, my lips went to her neck—kissing, nipping, and licking.

She squeezed my shoulder. "Take me," she gasped out. "I'm yours."

I nibbled her earlobe, my hand rubbing along her thigh. "I know," I whispered, smirking—placing my hand between her legs.

Suddenly, she slouched back, reaching for the hem of her shirt. "It's hot…" She threw it away.

"Yeah…" It was stifling in here, and I unclasped her bra. My cock twitched when I saw her tits, her nipples already constricted, and she was still panting.

"Don't tease me…not today. Just…shut up, Santino," she whined, but I hadn't said anything...yet.

I love it when she whines for me, but I also love it when I dirty talk and touch her to the point of insanity.

"Relax," I soothed, my hand spanning the bump to sneak into her stretchy pants.

Maggie calmed a bit, parting her legs and slouching back.

But that wasn't good enough. My wife grasped my forearm, making my fingers descend lower. I felt her heat, her soaked panties, and her wet pussy. It made me groan as I bent low to kiss along her breasts—my finger making circles on her clit.

"Help me up—take my pants off!" She spluttered, rushing her words.

Maggie didn't have to tell me twice.

Leaving the couch, I crouched low to rid her of the shoes and pants she wore. When I stood up, she'd grabbed my belt, and I stood there with knots in my stomach. Maggie was fast to discard my nine and push my jeans down, moaning when she took me into her mouth.

I rose to my toes, my muscles stiffening as I watched her cheeks hollow. "So fuckin' good."

Her eyes met mine, and I saw the happiness there—my admiration had her elated, but she had no idea. I can hardly comprehend just how much I love and adore her—admire and worship. Just how much I need and yearn for her…every day and all the time.

The neediness, the eagerness—the passion we've shared since the first night we met has never waned.

"Fuck, stop—" I bit out, knowing she'd make me come, and then we'd have to wait. "Just—" Tongue-tied and overheated, I helped Maggie to stand, and there was no way we'd make it to our bedroom. "Turn." I twirled a finger.

Maggie got on all fours, throwing me a grin from over her shoulder. "Like that?"

I smiled wide at that tease. "Perfect." Bending low, I kissed along her ass, my hand snaking around her front. Christ, she was practically dripping, and I sat back to fuck her with my fingers—watching them disappear.

"Just fuck me!" She pushed her ass out, which hit me in the face.

I bit my lips together so I wouldn't chuckle. "You want it, huh?" I grabbed my hard cock to tap her ass with it.

"Santino, please…" She actually sounded upset. "I'm a million years pregnant, and—oh!"

Yeah, I found her pussy quick and had to pause—get my breathing under control. "Better?" I panted, pushing even deeper.

Maggie made some kind of noise—one I didn't recognize. It was like a throaty growl or something, and I knew she was cool.

Knowing I had to be gentle, I placed my hands on her hips, picking up a steady rhythm. "So fuckin' good…" I fucked her slow, enjoying the mewls and the moans that escaped her every time I'd enter her.

Slouching but keeping my weight off of her, I picked up the pace with my hips, my fingers tweaking and pulling her nipples.

It wasn't long until my muscles tightened, and Maggie got loud—clawing at the couch and shit. I knew she was close, and those sounds…Fuck me. They weren't as hot as my current visual, but they threatened to make me fall apart.

"Yes!" Maggie bit out, her body stiffening while her pussy milked my cock. "Fuck, fuck, fuck…" she chanted before letting out a loud groan, and she was still coming.

My eyes rolled as a shudder rocked through me, and I tried to hold back, but I couldn't. When her pussy grips me that tight, I follow right after, which was what I did. I held her hips, getting as deep as I could to let go.

Panting and sweaty, I gathered Maggie into my arms.

It was still crazy quiet—the feeling of my heart racing and our breaths filling my ears.

"It's really quiet." Maggie fanned her face. "I'm not used to it."

I hummed, licking a bead of sweat from her neck.

"You wanna go to your parents' house?" she asked.

I paused, furrowing my brow to stare at her. "What?" I thought I'd fetch us a snack, and then we could go for round two. "Why?"

Maggie pursed her lips, rubbing her stomach. "Otherwise, you'll stare at me, like I'm about to explode."

It's funny she'd mentioned that. I mean, I had her huge belly right in front of me, but her pussy had fogged my brain. "Well…I wasn't, but now…" I wondered how she felt. "Your pussy didn't feel any different. My medical opinion is that you're not dilated at all." I pointed to myself.

"Oh…" She smacked my thigh. "The doctor said I was two centimeters—"

I snickered, placing a kiss on her cheek. "Like, _I'd_ know?"

She munched on her lip, making a Littlest Eddie face. "See how many fingers you can—"

"Stop," I laughed, pulling her into my side again. "Just relax."

"I want this baby out!" She did a little dance in her seat. "I know. It's soon—real soon."

Trusting that Maggie knows her shit, we sat there in collective silence for a few minutes—or however long. I stared at her stomach while she bit her thumbnail for an immeasurable amount of time.

"Anything?" I asked.

She huffed, shaking her head.

I nodded, staring at her profile now.

"Stop looking at me," she whispered.

I tore my eyes away to put my boxers back on.

"I should pee," she said, and I helped her up. Maggie walked to the downstairs bathroom naked, that waddle making me giggle. "I look like a penguin—it's not funny."

I zipped my mouth and threw away the key, but when the door closed, I laughed. "You're adorable!" I knew she'd hear me. "My adorable, sexy, gorgeous wife!"

If Maggie replied, I didn't hear it.

Not sure what she wanted to do, I continued getting dressed, and I also picked up all her clothes—folding them neatly while I waited for her.

After she emerged and confirmed that nothing of importance happened on the toilet, I heated us up some leftover sausage and peppers.

Maggie was determined to induce her labor, placing hot sauce on her food.

I watched with bated breath while she took the first bite.

"Stop staring at me."

I went back to my plate.

When we finished eating, Maggie suggested we watch a movie. I let her pick whatever she wanted to see, knowing I'd be paying more attention to her the whole time. For close to two hours, every move she made had my heart rising to my throat.

I kept thinking, "This is it!" but nothing would happen.

While the credits rolled, I helped Maggie up so she could pee again.

Meanwhile, I was antsy as fuck.

My wife was correct. Well, it's her fault for reminding me. I wanted to go for round two, but my stomach was nervous—my gut anticipating. My own instincts told me Maggie was going to go into labor any second…or maybe I'm not intuitive and it's paranoia?

I waited outside the bathroom with her shoes. "We'll go to my parents' house." I bent low to place her flats on her feet.

Maggie stepped into them. "Okay. I wonder what your mom's making for dinner."

"We'll find out." I grasped her hand.

She insisted on us walking over, and the streets were quiet enough.

"If you go into labor…" I ushered her toward my car. "It makes sense." I helped her inside and then ran around to enter.

Maggie didn't bitch, and we arrived at my parents' house minutes later.

"Walking is good for me." She grabbed my hands, and I pulled her out of the car.

"Yeah, well…walk around the yard," I said.

Maggie stuck her tongue out at me.

"Don't—" I dove for her lips to stick mine down her throat, and she laughed into my mouth. "I love you."

She sighed. "I love you."

* * *

**Thank you for reading. **

**Please leave me your thoughts. **


	17. Santino Chapter 7

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

* * *

**"Back in the Saddle"**

**Chapter Seven**

**Sonny/Santino**

_**H**_earing voices coming from the back, along with the resounding splashes and our kids' screaming, we entered through the fence.

Maggie and I stopped, shocked to see the yard full of people. Everyone was here—Dame, Jordan, Kylie, Gio, Aro, Lisa, Carlisle, Alex, and all the kids. It seemed as though my parents were having a barbecue and didn't invite us.

"Hey!" Too many shouted in unison for me to name.

"Mommy!" Beth hollered, running over.

Knowing our clumsy daughter, I quickly met my Angelface to gather her into my arms before she could fall. She placed a kiss on my cheek and gazed down to her mom. "Where's the baby?"

Maggie grinned, patting her stomach. "He's not here yet."

"Oh…" Beth pouted, wiggling to get out of my arms. When her feet touched the ground, she grabbed Maggie's hand, trying to pull her toward Izzy and Jordan.

"You okay?" I asked.

She winked, letting herself get whisked away by Beth.

I met up with my father, Carlisle, and Aro. They convened by the grill, sipping beers while Dad placed burgers down. "What happened?" he asked.

I sighed. "Nothin'…we tried…inducing labor with my cock."

"That's always fun." Carlisle patted my back.

Dad snickered, agreeing with him.

"How'd last night go?" I raised a brow at Carlisle, turning to find my cousin. Li'l Ed was in the pool with his younger twin brothers, my boys, and Dame. They were playing volleyball.

Carlisle rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his beer. "He didn't tell his mother jack shit, if that's what you're asking."

I shrugged. "I was just asking…"

"It went well." He nodded. "After, we went to Midnight Sun to meet up with Ant. Then, Li'l Eddie, my son," he looked proud, placing his hand on his chest, "took off with some redhead."

"He bagged some broad?" Dad asked, and we all turned to stare at the pool—at that geeky little fuck.

Carlisle grinned. "Eclipse got him worked up, I guess."

"Did you pay a pro to take him home?" Dad whispered. "You can be honest."

"What?" Carlisle shouted. "Fuck, no…He's got skills, like his old man." He plucked his t-shirt.

"Skills," I laughed.

"Yo…" Aro put his arm around my shoulder. "Back in the day…this dude was scandalous."

"His cock used to get him in trouble." Dad chuckled. "All the time…"

"Can we not discuss certain things?" Carlisle asked.

"How many times…" Aro laughed, cutting himself off. "How many times did'ju almost get yourself killed?" He cackled, bending at the knees.

"Let's not talk about all that." Dad was suddenly pissed. "Then, I'mma get angry, and no one wants'ta see me angry."

"Relax, Ed—"

"Get off me." Dad shrugged his brother away. "Fuckin' ho!"

Aro and I laughed our asses off.

Carlisle beamed at Dad. "Look at you…getting all testy."

My father shook his head, grumbling some shit I didn't hear.

"We'll stop." Aro put his hands out. "This is a nice day…the sun's out." He squeezed Dad's shoulder.

"Gotta bring up shit from mad long ago…" Dad said, smashing a hot dog into the grill. "Motherfuckers."

Recognizing his tone, I took a step back before he started swinging those big ass tongs.

"You can't take jokes—" Carlisle started.

"It's not funny. It's _never been_ funny!" Dad was still heated. "Both of youse get out my face!" He spat at Aro and Carlisle.

They were quick to walk away wearing smiles while I placed my arm around my father. "You all right?"

Dad grinned at me, relaxed now. "I see those motherfuckers every day…They gotta come through on a Saturday? Bust my balls? Eat my food? Use my pool?"

I didn't say anything.

"Youse—my kids and my bruisers—don't count."

"Right." I smiled at my mother as she joined us.

Mom placed a plate of buns down and squeezed me tightly. I was about to hug her back, but Dad stole her away. He kissed her deeply—almost too passionately for a family gathering. When his hands went to her ass, I turned to scratch my brow and clear my throat.

By the look on Dad's face, he was upset that I interrupted.

Mom sighed. "Not in front of the kids."

I didn't roll my eyes, no matter how instinctive it was.

Dad sucked his teeth. "Our kids have kids. They know we get busy."

"Oh...we knew youse did before we had children," I smiled. "Trust me. Whenever we heard animal noises—"

"Watch it," Dad warned, trying not to grin.

"I meant the children, Na-Na's babies." Mom glanced around. "Little Sonny's—" She just stopped talking.

"Little Sonny, what?" I stepped toward them.

Dad waved a hand. "He's at that age—just curious." He kept his eyes on the grill, looking guilty—I knew that face. My mother found her flip-flops interesting, and a silence loomed.

"And...?" I asked.

"Not important," Dad whispered.

Mom nudged him. "We should tell him before—"

"He caught us fucking around." Dad shrugged. "No big deal."

My eyes were probably huge, and I had no idea what to say. I was surprised my son didn't come home crying. God knows what the fuck those two were doing. Now that none of us live there, they walk around naked, fuck all the time and everywhere. At least, that's what Dad says.

"He didn't know what we were doin'." Mom squeezed my forearm.

"What'd he see?" Last night, he seemed shocked to learn about his grandparents having sex.

Dad guzzled his beer.

Mom munched on her bottom lip.

"Do I have to ask _him_?" As mortifying as it might have been, I tried not to laugh. "We talked last night. I expected him to talk to his Pop-Pop, his best friend...'cause he said he would ask, which I thought was cool. When we said 'all married couples do it,' he inquired about youse two. I want him to be able to come to youse—Maggie and me, too, of course—if he has questions. No matter what."

Mom held her heart. "That's amazing. You and Maggie are really doing a great job."

"Thanks." I nodded, digging the compliment, and I knew Maggie would, too. "It ain't easy."

Dad chuckled. "It gets harder when they get older. You ain't seen nothin' yet, baby boy."

Mom agreed.

"I don't necessarily want him thinking it's a bad thing—something he can't talk to us about." I furrowed my brow. "He knows it's for adults and whatnot."

"It was last week...when you took Maggie to lunch," Dad said. "In our defense, we weren't fucking and we were fully clothed—"

"His head was up my skirt." Mom palmed her face, her cheeks beet red. "Just...you know. It was a spur of the moment kinda thing. Beth was taking a nap...the boys were watching cartoons."

"They're sneaky. They sneak around and they don't make a sound," I laughed my ass off. "What'd you tell him you were doin' under Mom's skirt?" I remember walking in on a similar scene when I was around twelve. AJ and Katie were with me; they saw some shit, too.

Again, in their defense, all I saw was my father's head between Mom's legs. Dad was quick to cover her. _He_ wasn't naked or anything, but Mom was, and I closed my eyes because I didn't _want_ to see.

_I ran outta there real fast._

Only, I was old enough to know exactly what they were doing.

And I can recall the talk Dad had with me as well. He rattled on about privacy, which was crap since they were in the living room. Then he said, "Sometimes, I like to have my woman." Some bullshit, but it was hard to look Mom in the eye after that. I have no idea if they were ashamed of what they'd done—getting caught—and I doubt they were. They didn't need to be.

I was embarrassed enough for us all.

I remember feeling weird and grossed out by the concept alone, and I don't want my eldest to feel like that.

Sure, I'm plowing his mom, so us getting down will always be nasty to him.

_I can definitely relate to that._

I may not always have the answers. Maggie might have to come to my rescue again. But just as long as he asks, keeps asking, and the lines of communication are open, it essentially doesn't matter. I want him—all my kids—to feel comfortable talking to me, even to ask stupid questions.

Confiding in me about such things shouldn't be humiliating. I want them to trust me with anything and everything.

There's no such thing as too much information when you're a dad, I don't think.

Mom raised her hand. "I said I had a boo-boo. Pop-Pop was just checking it out."

"With his mouth." I chuckled.

"He didn't see nothin'...relax." Dad pushed me. "This one—" he jerked a thumb to Mom "—pretended she was sleeping. Fake snore and all."

"I panicked," my mother defended.

"Yeah...you used to do that shit all the time. Bet Li'l Sonny just thinks I'm some pervert now." Dad grumbled. "Head in Na-Na's skirt." He smiled wide. "Nah, he didn't even ask me, wasn't acting weird or nothin'—Mom's excuse was good enough." He eyed her. "You still owe me a blow job."

"Edward," Mom scolded him but giggled.

Dad groaned, giving Mom's ass a slap, and then he grabbed it with two hands. "Later, I'mma tear it up—"

"Please," I pleaded. "Not in front of the kids." Wanting to tease them, I placed my fingertips in my ears.

Mom was beaming, and I loved seeing her happy. "You guys had the talk...How did it go?"

"It went...well, I guess. No matter what happened to pique his interests, he knows what sex is." I blew out a breath, remembering, something coming to mind.

Last night, I thought nothing of it.

Right now, my recollection of that night is pretty clear. When we were talking, I wasn't thinking about it, trying to answer his questions. My son definitely got an eye-full when he caught us fucking. I'm surprised he didn't go blind.

What I walked in on—back in the day—was nothing in comparison. Mom and Dad were PG-13.

Maggie and I were NC-17, pornographic.

Plus, she's rocking her big ol' baby bump...

_Jesus Christ. I hope my kid doesn't need therapy. _

Mom just complimented us. I had that fantastic, parental epiphany, but...

_Fuck that. We're still good parents. _

Four nights ago, I was kissing and pawing at my wife—which is nothing new—but I was home very early for a change. Before we could do anything South of the border, Beth had a nightmare. It was a legit bad dream, although I don't remember what it was about. We heard her scream, and that made Maggie panic. I ran out to make sure she was okay.

Angelface was crying, totally fucking distraught, and that broke my heart. Maggie was able to calm her down, put her back to sleep...in our bed. Beth's sobbing and my running around must have woken Eddie up. He saw where his sister was sleeping, and he suddenly had a headache—had to join us after I gave him some Tylenol.

We have a king-size bed. We all fit and everything, but they cock-blocked us big time...they usually do.

It's fairly routine, actually.

Between nightmares, stomachaches, headaches, and bedwetting—there's _always_ a kid in our bed. It's not something I mind, either. Sleeping with us is the epitome of comfort to them. Once they're in our bed, they're out for the count. They don't have any more problems, and they'll grow outta that soon enough. Little Sonny doesn't wake up in the middle of the night to bother us for a thing these days...unless he's sick. Truth be told, snuggling with Maggie last night was a fluke.

Our house is also large enough for us to find someplace else to fuck.

We'd assumed our eldest was asleep.

Anyway, when the other two fell out, Maggie and I left the room to pick up where we'd left off.

It was raining outside. We couldn't take a quick dip in the pool, nor could we utilize the guest room; Maggie didn't want to change the sheets or something. The den downstairs was the most convenient location. It's our go-to spot when we're desperate because it's semi-private, not open like the living room and it's on another level.

I stripped Maggie down.

I got naked, too, and then she gave me a blow job.

After eating some pussy from behind, I bent my wife over the sofa—no shame, and I gave it to her good.

_Real good. _

That was some good fucking. Beastly and primal.

Maggie was loud, but it was no big deal.

The kids wouldn't wake up or hear anything . . . or so we thought.

Hell, I didn't hear, nor see Sonny come downstairs. I had no idea until last night.

If he saw that...yeah, he'd know I wasn't simply checking for boo-boos with my penis. Depending on what he saw, Maggie wasn't brushing her teeth with my dick, either...

And I can't find a valid excuse for muffling my face into my wife's ass.

What would I tell him?

_Sometimes, I like to eat Mom's ass._

God, I hope he _only_ saw us fucking.

"Did'ju see the bracelet I got her?" Dad shoved Mom's wrist in my face.

"Nice." I nodded, admiring the diamonds that went all around. "Maggie has one like that." In fact, I gave it to her three weeks ago.

"I know…I loved it," Mom giggled, looking back to Dad. "That didn't mean I needed one." She probably has four just like it anyway.

"Tough." Dad slapped her ass again.

Mom squealed, walking away.

Despite worrisome thoughts, their exchange made me smile. "All these years…"

"All these years," Dad agreed. "I love the fuck outta that woman…She's mine—" Dad was too busy staring at Mom's ass. He flipped a burger and it fell to the ground. "Quick. Pick it up."

I laughed, doing as he said, but it was hot. Hissing through my teeth, I rapidly plopped it on to the grill again.

My father pushed it all the way to the left, separating it from the rest. "That's Carlisle's burger," he said.

"Dad—"

"You wouldn't've laughed before if you knew the stories…" He raised a brow at me. "I remember telling you some shit, when you had that…you know."

"What?" I asked.

"You had that problem with your brother…when you first met Mags—"

"Don't," I was fast to say. "That's filed under 'shit we'll never speak of again.'" I nodded.

"You see?" He grinned, pointing at me. "If I told you all that your uncle did…in reference to your mother, you'd kill that nasty bastard." Dad hugged me, resting his head on my shoulder. "That just makes me love you even more…It makes me so happy, it makes me wanna give you money, plant…daisies, and…" He trailed off with a sigh, all wistful and shit.

His words made me chuckle, and they also made me curious. "Seriously."

"You'd…_seriously_ kill him." Dad pulled away. "We don't talk about that."

My stomach was in knots again, for different reasons as I stared at my uncle. Knowing how he _can_ be with females, I—

"Hey, Sasquatch." Dad snapped his fingers in my face.

I snatched his beer to take a long swig.

"He got his…I almost killed that fucker," he laughed. "Christ."

"But you didn't," I said, hearing the gate open and close behind us.

My cousin Anthony and his bride came strolling in.

"These two…" Dad snickered, staring. "What she a movie star now?"

I didn't comment, didn't care, but I knew what my father was talking about. Ant's wife was decked out in designer fashions, wearing a large hat, big sunglasses. She was overdressed for burgers in my parents' yard. "'Sup, Ant?" I gave him a one-armed hug.

"Santino!" Vinny widened her arms.

I grasped her raised right hand to shake it. "How are you?"

She smiled up at me. "I'm good…you?" She poked my bicep, and I looked to Ant. My cousin seemed none the wiser, eyeballing the yard and pool.

"Hiya!" Jordan shouted, making me whip around. My sister-in-law glared at me, and then Kylie sidled up to her.

"Hey, Vinny!" My sister enveloped her in a hug, and they walked away talking about some shit.

I looked back to Jordan, but she didn't say anything. She walked away without another word.

When she met up with Maggie, my fuckin' wife was grilling me, too.

"What the hell was all that?" I asked, widening my arms, still staring at my wife.

My father was laughing about something, and Ant nudged my bicep. "I gotta talk to you."

"What's up?" I asked, hoping it was business related and not about his wife's wandering eyes.

"This guy Joey from Jersey, he's from Dover—"

"Bend over?" It was Dad's lame attempt at a gay joke.

Ant ignored that.

I tried not to laugh. "Yeah…?"

My cousin pushed his hair back. "He requested a sit-down, says Mickey from Green Point jacked a shipment from him."

"Fuck Joey and fuck Jersey," Dad said.

"From where?" I asked.

"One of the ports in Newark—"

"Quite a few of those are ours." Dad nodded. "If a boat carrying something important just _happened_ to dock in one of our ports…Your buddy in Dover is shit outta luck."

I knew my father had a point, but doing nothing goes against…

Regardless of any standing ties, I'm about to have another kid, and I didn't want problems. I also didn't want to hide my family. New Jersey is too close, and no matter how much control we have over it, their crossing state lines to pop one of us…they're too close, distance-wise. Clipping one of us might not be an easy feat, but it's still possible.

Again, despite all that, I looked to my father. "Did you do that?"

He pointed to himself. "Me…?"

"Did'ju put Mickey up to it?" I asked.

He smiled. "No…Why would I do that?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Because you're bored. Because it was a fuckin' day that ended with a 'y'?"

Dad shrugged. "All right…I'm bored, but there was a bunch of Army surplus stuff coming from North Carolina. There's an RPG launcher with my name on it." He placed his hand on his chest.

"RPG launcher?" I couldn't believe him. "You planning to take out the _whole_ Garden State with that? A fuckin' grenade launcher?"

He raised a brow, like it wouldn't be a bad idea. "But, no…These motherfuckers are but a few miles away, and I'm supposed to let them have one?" he asked. "That's a weapon of mass destruction. There's two in that load. I'mma give you one."

I had no idea what I'd do with one of those. "This isn't the Middle East."

"What's your point?" Dad had a straight face. "Let them come through. They'll be even more scared we got those shits." He nodded. "How's that shit any different from jackin' AKs, or a fuckin' M2 Browning? It's all the same."

"Uncle Edward…" Ant placed a hand on Dad's shoulder. "With all due respect, have you lost your fuckin' mind?"

"No," Dad said, looking to Ant's hand. "Move it or lose it."

My cousin stepped away from him.

"I'm just saying…I'm not sayin' I'mma use it." He jerked a thumb to himself. "I just didn't want_ them_ to have it."

"Right." I could definitely agree with him, could see the logic when he broke it down like that. "Tell whatshisface from Dover that we'll tax Mickey." It was the best solution I could come up with. "No conflict, no confrontation—we'll get Mickey's money to him and sweep it under the rug."

"All right. Thanks," Ant said, walking toward the pool.

"Which one you gonna clip?" Dad chuckled, keeping his tone hushed. "Mickey or that Joey fuck?"

I thought about it. "Both…we make it look like they took each other out—tit for tat. There's no beef, and no one complains about the missing load."

Dad patted my back. "I like it. That's what I'll do…You worry about Maggie."

"Thanks." I was surprised by his generosity, but not really. "You gonna ride with Aro—do it yourself?"

His smile reached his eyes. "Maybe."

I figured as much.

"Yo..." He hit my arm, getting real close. "You got any smoke?"

I shook my head. "Nope...Geez, I haven't smoked weed in a while." I think it was last year. Somehow, I'd acquired a joint, and I smoked it with Maggie.

"Damn...Get us some trees this week. You got that good connection in Brownsville. That fuck don't know me, and I wanna keep it that way." He pointed a finger at me.

I didn't bother to comment. My father's not afraid to get pinched for some bullshit weed. The man is lazy, and he doesn't want to ask whoever _he_ knows. That shit is teeny potatoes these days. The dude I know is a friend. He's not affiliated with us, or any organization. There isn't any money in that. It's been legalized in so many damn states, except New York. Dad could drive down to Delaware to get some, Connecticut, but he'd never do that. Fuck, I wouldn't do that.

"It's not important, though...Just, if you can, hook us up." He patted my back.

"I got you. No worries...Ant said he'd keep an eye out, but I'd appreciate if you'd chill at Eclipse this week. Just a few days. If I'm not around, he'll have his stupid wife involved in business-matters or something. That shit ain't cool."

He nodded, placing the cooked hot dogs on a plate. "I already told your mother I would be...She'll probably be busy, over at your crib. She don't got dick to do."

"That's cool." It was a half-lie.

I love my mother, and I love how helpful she is. After a while, though—between Mom and Maggie—I start to feel like I have two wives, busting my chops and bossing me around. I can handle my kids, take care of them and the house, and get meals together, while Maggie focuses her energy on our infant. Little Sonny does shit without being asked as well.

Honestly, at this stage of the game, we don't _need_ Mom's help.

But, Maggie might _want_ Mom there.

There's a difference.

Mom and Maggie are very close, and my wife trusts her. Case in point, if we leave the children with my mother, Maggie doesn't worry about a thing. If I take the boys out for the afternoon, I get sporadic phone calls—Maggie looking for updates. My wife trusts me. She just worries, I guess.

My children also love their Na-Na something crazy. Morale is much higher when she's at our house, too. They listen to her, respect her, and she's great with them—has that mom-knack. The good definitely outweighs the bad when it comes to my mother helping out. I have no reason to complain.

_I'll just have to remind myself of those facts when they both start nagging me. _

Even so, I'd never bitch about her presence or anything. That'd be really fucking dumb, and I'd never want to hurt Mom's feelings.

"Don't give my wife a hard time," Dad said. "If she's over there too much, you tell me—I'll throw a fit 'cause I want her home with_ me_ instead._ I'll_ be the prick. She's used to that—my bullshit don't faze her no more. _Capisce_?"

"I _capisce_." I furrowed my brow. "Dad, I'd never—"

"Since she's not watching Izzy anymore, she's been down in the dumps...I know I wanted my wife back, and I love my little refugee, but Pop-Pop can be selfish. I don't like sharing my wife when I don't have to. We raised our kids." He pursed his lips. "Whether I complained or not, nothing stopped Mom from watching her. It's not _my_ fault Jordan stopped working. And I know Bella's not depressed, but she just enjoyed having the kids here all the time. Hell, I do, too. You know I love having a house full of my bruisers..."

I chuckled, knowing exactly what he was trying to say. While he adores Izzy, she took Mom's attention away from him. It wasn't just a couple of times a week, either. Izzy was with Mom almost _every_ day. My niece practically lived with them, and if she wasn't here, she was at my house, or over at Kylie's.

Essentially, it was like Dad's old ass had a toddler. 'Cause if Mom's watching Izzy, Dad kind of is, too. "You're jealous of your grandchildren. That's so sad."

"Fuck you. She's mine." He pushed my shoulder. "She's really looking forward to helping Maggie. So don't say shit to her."

"When have I ever?" I asked.

"I know _you_ haven't, but..." His face fell. "She _loves_ being involved, being needed, and helping youse. Especially with the new peanuts. After what happened with Kylie, when your sister said she didn't need Mom's help—shit got all weird; meanwhile, your sister _really_ needed her . . . Kylie's stubborn sometimes." Dad puffed his cheeks, blowing out a breath. "That shit breaks her heart, and seeing your mother so disappointed...breaks _my_ heart."

I massaged his shoulder. "Don't worry about it. They're on vacation. It's hot out. I bet Mom steals my kids, so your bruisers can eat all your Fritos." I smiled wide. "Truthfully, they'll probably be here most of the summer." I didn't think of that. "Little Sonny will be your shadow. Beth'll cling to Mom, make her play princess tea party all the time, and Eddie will break all your shit...Plus, if my kids are here, you know Kylie'll be here with the boys. Then Jordan will join the party with the girls."

Dad chuckled. "You're right."

"My kids love you guys somethin' fierce." It was the truth.

Dad hummed. "And we love them...Maybe next weekend, we'll take them somewhere—a beach or a lake upstate." He shrugged, sipping his forgotten beer.

"Bet they'd love that." Glancing around, my gaze fell on Maggie, and she didn't look happy—surrounded by Jordan and Kylie. "I'll be back," I told my father, rushing to cross the yard, get to my wife.

"What's goin' on?" I sat next to her.

Maggie shook her head. "It's not time yet." But she was upset about something.

"She hates that skinny bitch," Jordan whispered.

"I'll smack her in the mouth," Kylie offered, pushing Lala back and forth in his stroller.

"What?" Confused, I stared at Maggie, but everyone got quiet when Mom made her way over.

"Be nice." She shook her finger at them.

"Mom—" Kylie spoke up.

"He's oblivious." Mom gestured to me. She was right because I didn't know what was going on. "Vinny's over there telling Alex about how you all hate her."

"We do." Kylie nodded and Jordan agreed.

Mom scoffed. "Can youse try to be nice?"

The three women didn't agree or disagree.

Mom held my jaw. "How are you? I didn't ask before, and you look tired."

"Good." I stood to give her a hug and kiss her hair. "You?" I just saw her yesterday and over by the grill.

My mother smiled wide, always acts like it's been weeks since we've seen each other. "I'm great." Then she gave a bitch brow to the females behind me. "The meat's all cooked. Pull yourselves together and make plates for your kids." She walked off.

I sat next to my wife again. "Are you really upset?"

Maggie quietly belched, holding her chest. "I feel like a whale…just sitting here."

"Look at her…over there wearin' a fuckin' bikini." Kylie was upset, too. "She's tan…got no stretch marks."

"Can youse stop?" I asked.

"Why do you care?" My wife stared at me.

"Yeah? Why do you care?" Kylie pinched me.

According to my brother, Jordan can pack some heat, so I rose from the chair before she could get me.

"Youse are both getting Maggie upset." I scolded through a whisper. "You wanna knock her teeth out, Tyson?" My eyes landed on Jordan. "How 'bout you, Rocky?" I looked to my sister. "By all fuckin' means…but stop getting her upset!" I gestured to my wife.

"Geez." Kylie grimaced.

"Right? What crawled up your butt?" Jordan asked.

I widened my arms and wanted to pull my hair out.

I can't deal with them when they're together like this.

"She was flirting with you," Maggie whispered.

"Did I flirt back?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"Did I disrespect you in some way?" I pinched her cheek with my knuckles.

"No," she admitted.

"So…all of youse need to be easy—"

Jordan gasped. "I'mma kick her ass." She ran toward the pool, and I turned to see Vinny smiling down at Damion.

"Go!" Maggie pushed Kylie.

"She'll do it—crap, crap, crap," my sister chanted, going after Jordan.

As it turns out, Aro was faster than Kylie to get to Jordan. He saw what was going to happen, and he scooped her up and away from Vinny before it could go down.

But then Damion, fast as lightning, shot out of the pool.

"Go!" Maggie pushed me.

Fast as I could, I ran; however, I was too late. Dame threw out a punch, but Aro blocked him—getting him in the stomach.

"You muv'fucka!" Dame rammed him with his shoulder, and they fell back into the hedges.

Everyone was screaming—fucking kids and adults—while Gio and I tried to break them apart.

"You don't fuckin' touch her!" Dame roared, as I held him back.

"Relax." I squeezed his arms tightly, but he didn't care.

Aro was just bent outta shape, and Gio was having a hard time holding him. Meanwhile, neither one was hurt. "You little shit—take another swing at me!"

"Chill the fuck out!" I shouted at the both of them. "It's not what you thought," I whispered in Dame's ear.

"Then, what the fuck was it?" My brother turned to push me back.

"Yo…" I widened my arms.

Jordan got between us. "Did you like the view…?" She poked his chest.

Dame shook his head. "What?"

"Hey!" Mom hollered. "Knock it off! All of youse!" She had a crying Izzy in her arms.

When Dame and Jordan realized it, they fussed over their daughter.

I blew out a breath, looking away to see my sons—Sonny and Eddie—just chillin' in the pool. "Youse good?"

"Yeah," Little Sonny giggled. "There's always a fight at a barbecue when there's beer. That's what Pop-Pop says."

I chuckled, agreeing. "How 'bout you?"

"I'm okay." Littlest Eddie smiled. "I didn't have beer."

"Good. Little boys don't drink beer anyway." I crouched low to palm both their cheeks. "Having fun today?" Then, I almost fell into the pool when Beth crashed into my side. I caught her and myself before we could tumble over. "Hey!"

"Are the big guys finished?" she asked. "Can I swim now?" When the boys are playing, it's best that the munchkins stay out of Dodge. One of them always gets hurt.

"She can come in," Little Sonny said.

Beth already had her life jacket on, and I made sure it was secure. "Just for a little while. The food's done. I'll get you guys set up, and then all of youse gotta get out and eat."

"Okay, Daddy." The Angelface kills me, and I had to bite her cheek. She squealed, giggling, and I let her go.

"Watch her," I told my sons as I helped Beth into the pool.

Beth swimming made Izzy dry her tears; she wanted to go into the pool, too.

The yard was still very quiet—no one saying a word—but I could hear my father's chuckles from the grill.

Curious, I walked over to Dame who was now talking to Ant.

"This—you and Aro shit." I shrugged. "Is it a problem? A legit beef? What's up?"

My brother never answered me, stepping closer to our cousin. "You need to keep an eye on your woman…Those three don't fuck around," he whispered.

"What'd she do?" Ant asked, seeming worried.

"Are you fuckin' blind?" Dame gave him a nudge. "You better watch out, or next time you turn around…your pops'll be hittin' it."

"Yo…" Ant got upset. "That's my wife—"

"Exactly," Dame agreed. "She's _your_ wife." He poked his chest. "She flirted with me, and everyone flirts with this fuck." He jerked a thumb at me.

"Why I gotta be involved?" I asked.

They ignored me.

"You notice that shit, right?" Dame raised a brow.

Ant shook his head. "She's friendly—"

"No." Dame waved a finger. "If Jordan was flirting…" He seemed at a loss for words.

My stomach tied in knots, knowing what I'd done when I thought Maggie was…

"You better sneak her inside. Let her know." Dame nodded.

"Let her know, what?"

Dame palmed his face. "You claim that pussy now—you tell her it's yours, and just…scare her…just a little bit. Nothing crazy. Be a little rough." He nodded. "Yeah…That—that shit's golden. She'll love it and she won't glance at another man again."

"Force her?" Ant whispered. "I can't—"

"No, no, no, no…" Dame grumbled. "Sonny, help me out."

"Me…?" I pointed to myself.

"Well, he's not gonna shoot anyone here—"

I gave Damion a push, and he shut his mouth.

"Look…just be possessive," Damion whispered. "You gotta tell her to cut that shit out either way...unless she wants a bop to the mouth." He shrugged.

"Okay," Ant agreed.

"You go over there, tower over her…be menacing." Dame gave him a push. "Then, take her to the nearest bathroom."

Ant furrowed his brow, nodding as he walked toward his bride. Vinny sat near Alex, running her mouth, and she never knew how close she came to getting clocked by Jordan.

"You think he'll hit it?" Dame snickered.

"I don't know." That wasn't a bet I wanted to take.

Together, and while we kept glancing back, we walked over to our wives.

Dame gripped my forearm, and we saw Ant leaning over Vinny, whispering. He said something to her before grasping her bicep—jerking his head to the house. He wasn't aggressive, but it looked pretty believable.

"Haha!" Dame turned to gimme a pound as they entered the house.

I laughed, rolling my eyes.

Damion plopped down next to Jordan. "Let's go inside for a minute."

"Why?" Jordan asked.

"I wanna—"

"No," I said. "Just…"

"Fine." My brother pouted, turning to the stroller where Cara slept.

"Hey." I wrapped my arms around Maggie, and she stiffened. "What's wrong?"

"Um…" Her face flushed scarlet, as she glanced to her watch. "They're about fifteen minutes apart—"

"What?" I shouted, standing up. "Come on, let's go—"

"My water didn't break yet," Maggie said, the picture of calm.

I was panicking inside. "Why—No, we gotta go." I reached for her hands.

"She's fine," Jordan told me. "It could be false labor, too."

"Until her feet are in the things, and you're poking around…no." I pulled Maggie to her feet. "We gotta go."

"Hey!" Dame exclaimed. "Calm down."

My heart was racing.

"Don't make a scene," Maggie whispered, swallowing loudly. "I don't want the kids to worry…"

I let out a breath, helping her ease back down, but we'd caught everyone's attention. Our whole family stared at us—at Maggie—and Mom came running over.

"It's time! The baby's coming!" she announced, which made our kids run out of the pool while the rest cheered.

"Oh…" Maggie whined.

I smacked my forehead.

The backyard became a circus while I tried to soothe our soaking wet kids. Beth started to cry at the mention of us leaving for the hospital. Little Sonny nestled into his mother, as Littlest Eddie hugged on to me.

"No one's going to miss anything." Mom was absolutely giddy, standing on a chair to address everyone. "We'll _all_ go to the hospital."

"No…" I said it slow.

"The baby's comin' out the belly!" Izzy clapped her hands. "My mommy can take it out." She tried to get on my lap, too.

I was soaked, covered by wet kids, while everyone else hovered around us.

I couldn't even gaze back to Maggie. "Mommy's going to be fine." I kissed Beth's hair. "Stop crying."

"No be scared," Izzy said. "Babies have to come out."

"See?" I wiped Beth's cheeks.

"Bring…" Maggie whimpered. "Give her to me."

"A contraction?" Kylie asked.

While I tried to hold them all, feeling like I was a tree with kid ornaments, I placed Beth down near Maggie.

"Take your kid." I gave Izzy to Damion. "And, you…you gotta relax." I kissed my son's forehead, holding him close. "It's not a bad thing…Your baby brother will be here soon."

Littlest Ed nodded, a pout on his lips.

I couldn't even focus on anyone else. As far as I was concerned, the rest of them disappeared.

"Why ain't youse going to the hospital?" Dad shouted, nervous. "This look like a fuckin' manger? Go!"

"Edward!" Mom scolded.

"We _should_ go," Maggie told me, had changed her tune.

I nodded, my eyes falling on my children.

"I got him." Gio took Littlest Eddie from me, and Mom accosted Beth.

Little Sonny and I helped Maggie leave the chair. I ushered her a few steps away, and then turned back to my eldest, knowing he was holding back tears. "You trust me?" I asked.

Little Sonny nodded, looking to the floor.

"I'm not gonna let anything happen to your mother." I kissed his forehead. "Na-Na and Pop-Pop'll bring you guys soon."

"Okay," he whispered.

"Mind Beth," I said, rising to my feet and turning for my wife.

Maggie was almost all the way out of the yard, and I ran.

"You all right?" I asked, letting the fence slam after us.

She blew out a breath. "I'm fine…but everyone was in my face." Maggie waddled toward the car.

"We're going to the hospital?" I hoped.

She nodded. "My water always breaks _before_ the first contraction, so…" Maggie shrugged, and I helped her into the car. "If it's false labor…I'm hoping they just break my water for me, whatever." My wife seemed miserable.

Upset, I jogged around the car to enter. "I'm sorry I wasn't paying attention, but yo…How many contractions have you had? You been timing them?" I started the car, quick to pull away from the curb.

"A few…I know you asked and I lied, but I knew all that would happen. I wanted to make sure it was the real deal before I told you...God, that bitch Vinny pissed me off!" There was venom in her tone.

"Damn." I placed my hand on her thigh.

"No…She's all smiling at you, and then…She doesn't like me either! I don't feel bad!" Maggie ranted. "Telling me I'm boring. I'm a fuckin' drag…I'mma drag her fuckin' face across the floor like a mop!" she screamed.

I stopped at a red light to stare at her—utterly fucking dumbfounded.

"I just hate her," Maggie whispered, wiping her eyes.

I smiled, leaning over to get those lips. "I love you."

She hiccupped. "I love you, too."

* * *

**Yes! Finally! **

**Thank you for reading. **

**Please leave me your thoughts. **

**There's only one more Santino Chapter left!**


	18. Santino Chapter 8

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Beta'd by HollettLA.**

**ATTENTION STORM FREAKS: This is NOT the end!**

**Keep this on alert.**

**A Skip outtake will be coming soon - in a couple of weeks. Please be patient. I haven't started writing it yet, but it IS coming next. Promise! Since all these chapters were ready to go, I didn't see a reason to hold them back - trickle them out slowly. But it WILL be a few weeks before I update with the Skip/Bella POVs. Again, please be patient, and keep this story on alert. Love you guys! **

**Enjoy! **

**Thank you for reading, coming back to the Storm series :-) **

* * *

**"Back in the Saddle"**

**Chapter Eight**

**Sonny/Santino**

_**A**_s if we'd done it every day prior, we parked the car and trailed into the emergency room. They were quick to see Maggie and check out the goods. My wife was officially in active labor.

All the more nervous now, although Maggie was filled with glee, we were escorted up to the maternity floor.

The necessary paperwork had already been filled out.

A young-looking doctor—Dr. Riley, who's not Maggie's physician—gave her another exam while a nurse hooked her up to the fetal monitor.

And then we waited for an anesthesiologist.

My wife's not stupid. She got one when we had Sonny. She gave birth to Eddie naturally and then said, "Never again," and an epidural became an _absolute_ must.

I hugged my wife, helping her arch her back, as the doc inserted the needle. "You okay?"

"Little pinch," the anesthesiologist said.

"It's not _that_ little." Maggie stiffened.

"Shhh." I placed my lips in her hair, knowing it'd be over in a second, and I was correct.

When Maggie lifted her head to smile at me, I knew her lower half was now numb.

Finally alone, I got in bed with her to cuddle, and she turned the TV on.

Then we waited . . .

I expected Maggie to ask about gossip, to spill whatever info I had, but she didn't.

About an hour later, my mother came knocking. Apparently, our _whole_ family was in the waiting area. Maggie asked Mom if she could call her parents.

"I just said that so she'd leave," Maggie whispered.

I grinned, holding her tightly.

"I don't mind Bella, but they're all gonna trail in—one by one. Watch." She nodded. "I'm a museum exhibit."

"You are not." I chuckled, trying to keep her calm. That Vinny shit really got her upset, which in turn upset me. It wasn't cool. The presence of my cousin's wife incited such a fury that Maggie went into labor? I've never seen my wife get that angry before. Never. And now she's in a mood.

"If Vinny comes in here…Lord, help me." She groaned to the ceiling.

"She's not," I said, leaving the bed. "You want ice chips?"

Maggie nodded.

Overall, she was being too quiet for my liking.

"Hey." I lifted her chin to kiss those lips. "Stop thinkin' about that ho. She's no one. All right? This is our day. You and me."

"Our day," she repeated, agreeing with me.

"I love you…and you're the baddest bitch in the world. My bitch." I grinned. "No one can compare, or even come close."

Maggie giggled, and her face lit up, which had me feeling better.

"My big, bad momma…"

"Yeah," she sighed.

"Good." My lips lingered on hers, and then I left the room.

Under the guise of getting my wife ice chips, I truly checked out the waiting room to see who was here.

"Ohh!" Too many shouted for me to name.

I smiled, waving at everyone.

And I was fast to approach my parents.

And my kids were faster to approach me.

As I got down to my knees to be attentive, I stared up to Mom and Dad. "Immediate family only." I knew Maggie didn't mind visitors, only wary of one in particular.

My parents agreed, and I escorted my children to the room to see their mother. They needed to know she was fine—see her with their own eyes.

"Ten minutes…and don't leave this room." I let them loose before I went to get the ice chips.

I grabbed a pitcher full of ice, a few cups, and I stuffed two of those small cans of ginger ale into my pockets.

"Can you feel this?" Littlest Ed squeezed Maggie's toe.

"No," my wife giggled.

"This…?" Ed pinched another toe.

"You told them about your magical shot?" I asked.

Maggie nodded, her face lighting up again. "Magic." She kissed Beth's hair.

I chuckled, having a seat on the windowsill as I emptied my pockets.

Our children were very well behaved. Well, they _were_ until the boys started throwing ice at each other. They stopped right away, but then the doctor came in to examine Maggie again.

I didn't want to leave, but I had to bring the kids to the waiting room, to my parents.

Then I rushed back to stand at Maggie's side.

She couldn't feel anything, silently gazing up to me.

I held her hand, staring down to the doctor. He was feeling around, his brows knitted together. "What's up, doc?" I asked.

Maggie chuckled.

"I'm going to break your water now." He produced this long, wand-like thing. "It'll help you progress a lot faster."

"Is that a crochet hook?" Maggie asked, eyes panicked.

"Yo…" I hope he didn't think he was sticking that somewhere.

"You won't feel a thing," the doctor said.

Maggie settled back down.

I had mixed feelings and went to stand behind him.

"Santino!" Maggie snapped her fingers at me.

I ignored her.

"Get ova hea!" she barked at me through clenched teeth.

"All done," the doctor announced.

Within the split second I'd taken to look at my wife, he'd done it.

"Where's Dr. DeSoto?" Again, this dude wasn't Maggie's doctor.

"She's away this weekend, but Margaret's name was on the roster of expecting moms." He took off his gloves to toss them into the trash.

"What?" This was the first time I was hearing about some vacation. "Did you know?" I stared at Maggie.

"She said someone from the practice would always be available."

"Right." I glanced back to the doc. "Where are we?"

"Only five centimeters, but your contractions are three minutes apart now," he explained.

Maggie shrugged, looking to me, obviously not in any pain.

The doctor studied the fetal monitor. "I'm going to keep a close eye on you. His heart rate is fine, but you're not dilating fast enough, and we don't want the baby to be in any _real, _alarming distress."

"What?" I asked.

"He's in the perfect position. He's ready to come out, but _you're_ not ready to push," he spoke to Maggie. "You're overdue and your contractions are coming too fast now—"

"Jordan," Maggie said. "Please, get Jordan in here. I want her."

I was stuck for a second, as I didn't want to leave. The doctor's words didn't make sense. They sounded simple enough, but I didn't know what he was getting at.

_Were we worrying about something or not?_

I started at a run, but paused before entering the waiting area—not wanting to alarm anyone.

"Yo…" I called Jordan over with my hand.

"What's going on?" Mom asked, but she didn't let me finish.

Like some two-hundred pound football player, she psyched me out—had me thinking she'd go left but went right.

And I couldn't catch her before she ran down the hall.

"What's goin' on?" Dad shook me by my biceps.

"Relax." I bit out while I peeped Jordan follow after my mother. "I'll let you know when I do—I'll keep youse updated." My steps were slow again, but once I knew no one could see, I ran back.

With our permission and our insistence, the doctor broke shit down for Jordan, so Jordan could _dumb it down_ for us. That's what I don't understand about doctors. They went to medical school. Their patients obviously haven't, but they throw around these five dollar words—still sounding cryptic and vague. And to cover their own asses, they can't give you a definite answer any-fucking-way.

The kids' pediatrician is wonderful, ain't like that. He speaks in layman's terms and goofs around with the children. Dame and Jordan are the same way. Sometimes, I guess doctors have huge egos, feel they have to sound smart to gain respect; meanwhile, they'd probably gain their patient's trust if they were more relatable?

Jordan didn't let the doctor speak, turning to face us. "When Dr. Riley broke your water, there was meconium—poop in it, the baby's poop. The heart rate is good—steady but on the high side. Both signs—combined with your fast contractions, and since you're not dilating fast enough—indicate that your little guy might not be happy."

"But what's that mean?" I never claimed to be a genius. I wanted them to spit it out, and_ I_ wasn't happy with that explanation either.

"Is the baby in distress or not?" Mom shouted. "It's a yes or a no."

Dr. Riley gave her a short nod. "It's nothing to panic over. I'm monitoring them closely—"

"Get him out," Maggie cried. "Do whatever. Just get him out!"

"Shhh." Jordan soothed her, murmuring encouraging words.

I agreed with my wife. "If she's in danger—even slight." My body stiffened, fear nearly crippling me. "This is my wife…" I pointed to Maggie. "If anything—" Mom grabbed my hand, and I shut up for a second, just a second. "Do something now to fix this. We're not waiting until whatever-the-fuck. Do something _before_ something happens." I bent low to kiss Maggie's cheek. "You're gonna be okay. I promise."

"You have to relax," Jordan said. "He's not happy, but he's not in alarming distress. Okay? They have to monitor closely—make sure it doesn't get any worse." But my sister-in-law didn't look happy as she stared at the doctor. "I'll apologize from now, for crossing a line." She folded her arms across her chest. "I'm not your superior. I don't work here, and I tried to respect and support your course of treatment. But I disagree with you. I'm not the slightest bit cavalier when it comes to patient care. There haven't been _any_ changes within the last fifteen minutes. If this was _my_ patient, she'd be prepped and draped for a Caesarean already."

Dr. Riley looked back and forth—from Jordan and to us. "Is that what _you_ want, Mrs. Cullen? The recovery period is much longer, and having your child vaginally is significantly better."

"It's _easier_ for _you_—lazy." Jordan scoffed.

Dr. Riley ignored her, staring to Maggie. "I was thinking we'd medicate you to slow your contractions down—"

"That's a maybe." Jordan shrugged. "That _might_ work. If it doesn't, you'll have wasted valuable time while placing Maggie and the baby in potential danger." She walked closer to Dr. Riley. "You'll be in danger, too. This isn't a family you wanna fuck with, so I suggest you take my advice...before there are any serious problems—dire complications that'll include you as well." She sounded like Damion—calm, slightly menacing, and yet deadly. "Understand?"

Taken aback and despite all she'd said about possible risks, I smiled for a brief second—proud of her. I was able to breathe a little easier, knowing Jordan had our backs in this.

"I understand." Dr. Riley nodded. "And I respect everything you just said, but she's not your—"

"She's my sister, which makes her_ more important_ than one of _my_ patients. What year are you?" Jordan asked while Maggie reached to squeeze her hand. "I'm going to take a wild guess—you're a resident."

"Third," Dr. Riley said.

"Who's the _senior_ physician on-call? Or, on the floor?" Jordan fired off more questions.

Dr. Riley seemed a lot more nervous now, and the way I felt…he had every right to be. Who the fuck was this kid? And if he's some dumb fuck, I didn't want him to be Maggie's doctor. If there was someone more experienced around, I wanted that doctor. "Go get someone who knows what-the-fuck they're doin'!" I shouted.

He ran out of the room, and I went to follow.

"Sonny, don't!" Mom hopped onto my back. "Not here."

Tense, too fucking tense now and scared, I turned back to Maggie. My wife had her eyes closed, doing some breathing exercise she'd learned from Dame. I know so because that's how she calms herself down as of late. "You're okay." I palmed her cheek, looking up to Jordan. "She needs a C-section?"

She was studying the fetal monitor. "Lemme see something first…Bella, watch the door." Jordan grabbed some exam gloves while Mom kept guard at the door. "Tell me when someone's coming." She went on to explain how she had no privileges at this hospital as she started poking around down there. "You're still only at five…I, _personally_, I don't take those chances. That doesn't mean anything…but it could go either way, and there's nothing wrong with having a Caesarean. It's actually safer, more controlled than a vaginal delivery. At this rate, your body's simply not progressing fast enough for the little guy, and he wants out. If you wait too long, the chances of the baby panicking, because he can't get out, are significantly higher. Then, he'll be in distress, and you'd need a crash C-section—it'll be emergent and high-risk."

"I want him out now." Maggie sniffled, holding back a sob. "I don't wanna leave anything up for chance. I know enough about the procedure," she cried, turning to me.

"I'll make sure," I promised, kissing her hand.

About a minute later, a middle-aged male entered the room. He introduced himself as Dr. Paulson. He gave Maggie another quick exam, and he agreed with Jordan. He'd agreed with everything she'd said without having heard her words.

We actually calmed down a bit.

Knowing a C-section isn't necessarily something to be scared of, we were soothed by our new physician's confidence. He was taking action right away, and everything moved so fast after that.

A pair of scrubs were thrust into my arms while they started wheeling Maggie's bed away.

"Whoa!" I tried to stop them.

A nurse stepped in front of me. "We'll get her settled. You change into these, and I'll come right back for you."

Between a rock and a hard place, I sprinted out of the room to kiss my wife. "I'll be right in."

Maggie, calm and yet a little nervous, grinned at me. "It's going to be fine."

"I know." I gave her another kiss.

After changing into the blue scrubs, I had no idea what to do with my shit—my nine, my money, my clothes. I wrapped my heat in my jeans, leaving everything else in my pockets.

"Sonny?" Dad knocked.

"Thank God." I tore the door open. "Hold this."

Dad took my clothes, tucking them under his arm. "How you holdin' up?"

I honestly didn't know what to say, afraid to speak at length—too fucking anxious and not wanting to cry.

"She'll be all right. No need to be nervous or scared. I promise. Mom had three C-sections. Youse _all_ came outta the surgery fine, even if she had complications." He massaged my shoulder. "Sonny, do you trust me?"

"Yeah." I rasped, quick to clear my throat.

"Good. I'm glad. You_ should_ trust me. With this and the thing. I'd never steer you wrong." Dad hugged me tight and kissed my cheek. "I love you, kid."

"Love you, too." My hands were shaky, still so scared and concerned for Maggie. But, in this moment, I realized that I do trust him. The other day, talking about how I can't trust anyone—business-wise—was crap. My father's word is his word, and I had a shit-load of faith in the man. Love and admiration, too.

"Right, good shit. Now go." He pointed, all edgy as well, judging by his jittery demeanor, but he's always like this when someone has a baby. It's kind of cute, and seeing him worried helped my nausea ebb, for some odd reason.

This shit really wasn't about me. Now, _I_ had to step up to the plate. Be the—cool, calm, and collected—dad, Maggie's husband, her rock to see her through this.

And we've done this three other times, although previous births weren't as exciting or complex...

I could do this.

Maggie could do this, and everyone was going to be fine, healthy, and happy.

Again, the doctors were fast, too fucking fast for me. By the time I'd entered the small operating suite, they'd started the procedure already.

"You okay?" I hugged Maggie's head, resting my forehead to her temple.

She let out a large breath. "Yeah…what do you see?"

Looking up, all I saw was blue, and I didn't want to see beyond that. Trust that I don't have a weak stomach, but seeing Maggie's blood, my wife's insides would make me panic—I _knew_ that. "Nothin'." I placed more kisses on her cheek.

"He's out!" Dr. Paulson announced. "Oh, he's a big one!"

Maggie's eyes widened. "Why isn't he crying?"

I swore my heart stopped, as I strained to listen.

"Santino…he should be crying," she sobbed. "I can't hear him."

The doctors weren't saying jack shit. Only half a minute had gone by, but it felt like an eternity—waiting to hear our son cry, waiting to hear anything while I swore my heart stopped since I wasn't breathing.

"Hey…" I snapped myself out of that shit and shot up, trying not to look beyond the drape, but to see my son.

Another doctor was giving him an exam, rubbing down his back with a blanket.

But then our son wailed, which filled me with immense relief.

I nearly collapsed back down.

"He's fine," Dr. Paulson said. "Sometimes it takes a minute. He didn't expect us to go in there and get him—help him escape his womb." He chuckled.

"He's okay," I told Maggie, and I'd leaned away as a nurse brought him over.

"Oh…" Maggie was crying and laughing.

I was doing the same, staring at my son. He had a head full of dark hair, and he was decent-sized. He'd also quieted down fairly quickly again. All of our other kids screamed their asses off once out. This quiet little dude just surprised us. "He's beautiful." I kissed Maggie's lips.

She was still beaming, touching his tiny hand with her finger. "He looks like a Mikey."

"Michael…" I could dig it, agreed with my wife. "Michael Damion."

"Perfect," Maggie cried.

"We're gonna take him to the nursery now." The nurse pulled him back, turning to place him in the bassinet.

"Go with him," Maggie told me.

"What?" I asked. "He's fine. You're not done yet." As much as I loved the new addition to our family, as quickly as I'd fallen in love with him—Maggie still needed to be stitched up, and I wasn't leaving.

My wife told me to go three more times, and I refused.

"I'm not leaving you." I hugged her again, placing my lips in her hair.

I just couldn't fucking do it.

I couldn't walk out of that room without Maggie.

"He's big, right?" she asked, having calmed some.

I nodded, counting my blessings. "Yeah…" The tears continued to fall down my cheeks—a mixture of happiness and relief. "At least you didn't have to push."

"My bikini wearing days are over."

"'Cause I _let_ you wear bikinis," I laughed through my nose.

"I was kidding…if I work hard enough, I might pull off a two-piece." Maggie rolled her eyes.

"You rock whatever the fuck you wear, baby." I nipped her lips. "I'm serious. You're sexy…my sexy momma."

She grinned. "Yeah, okay," she sighed. "I want an IUD after this," she whispered. "It's removable…I'll be twenty-six in a couple of months. Maybe in a few years we'll want another? But…"

"Whatever you wanna do." I smiled, fine with that. "We have four beautiful kids, baby. They're enough." Three was enough. Two was enough, but if we'd stopped at two, or one, or even three—we wouldn't have had Littlest Eddie, Angelface, or our new addition, Mikey.

She chuckled, nodding to agree with me.

Twenty minutes later, I was actually _kicked_ _out_ of the room. There were too many people in there. Maggie was all stitched up, and the procedure was over. They needed to move her back onto her bed, and I stood in the hall to wait for her.

From this end, I couldn't see the waiting area or anyone in particular.

But I was able to peek into the nursery.

I saw my parents and our children all the way on the other side—through the other glass window.

I doubt they noticed me, but they waved, smiled, and crooned down to Mikey.

Maggie needed to chill out in the recovery area. She was still awake and she wasn't in pain. But they gave her something anyway, because her epidural was due to start wearing off soon. Whatever it was made her smiley and her nose itch. I had to keep reaching over to rub it, which I did with a smile.

They urged Maggie to rest, but she refused.

She wanted our kids—for them to at least see her, see she was all right.

No one fought against her wishes.

They hadn't brought Mikey back just yet, but I was able to go grab the kids.

Before I let them in the room, I crouched low to get their attention. "Did you see the baby?"

"He's big!" Little Sonny widened his arms.

"He's my new baby brother," Beth said.

"What's his name?" Littlest Eddie asked.

"Mikey." I smiled. "Short for Michael."

"Mikey!" Beth shouted. "Where is he?" She looked around me. "Is he with Mommy now?"

"He's still in the nursery. The nurses are gonna watch him for a little while so Mommy can rest. Mommy's fine…but she's tired." I nodded. "I need you guys to take it easy. Don't jump on her, or on the bed. Youse can hug her, but be gentle."

All three agreed with me, and then I granted them entrance. They were fine. They didn't hug Maggie too hard or pounce on her.

Little Sonny kept his distance, though.

"Hey…" I touched his cheek.

"She looks sick," he whispered, holding back tears.

Maggie was almost lying flat, but she wore a smile. To me, she just looked exhausted, like she was fighting sleep—still so beautiful but maybe paler than usual. "She's just tired," I said. "I promise…She's okay."

He nodded, furrowing his brow, staring at his mother.

"She's fine. Just tired...Go say hello." I poked his side.

"Come here, you!" Maggie wiggled her fingers for him, while the other two were real close—leaning their heads on the bed.

When Little Sonny joined the group, I grabbed my phone to take a picture of them.

"We didn't say cheese," Beth reminded me, wearing a frown.

"Sorry." I chuckled. "Okay. Say cheese."

"CHEESE!" They all shouted, even Maggie, while I snapped a few more pictures.

We let the kids visit for another ten minutes before I brought them back out to my parents. Mom didn't wait for instruction. She just walked to the back again.

"You can't tell her nothin'," Dad said. "She don't listen."

I looked around for the Sullivans. "They're not here? Robert and Kathy didn't come through?" That was unlike them. Even though we don't see them quite as often as my parents, they never miss a birth. They always come to the hospital.

Dad shrugged. "Your mother tried to call them. I bet they saw it was her and wouldn't pick up." He snickered. "My vulgar wife."

"Right." I shook my head, my eyes landing on my brother.

Damion threw himself at me, hugging me tightly.

I laughed, patting his back. "We named him Michael Damion."

He nodded. "Awesome name."

"Thank God for Jordan…" I looked around for her.

"She snuck in with Kylie—right after Mom." He pointed.

I widened my arms. "Maggie's supposed to be resting."

"He's gorgeous." Dad palmed my cheek. "He looks like you did."

"I think he looks more like Littlest Ed…" I admitted.

"Me?" My son pointed to himself.

"Yes." I squeezed his shoulder.

"It's a newborn," my brother laughed. "They all look like…well, newborns."

"I saw a resemblance." I nodded.

"Saw a resemblance." Damion patted my back. "That's four out of five. Good for you." It was a Katie joke.

"You're such a dick," I laughed, truly not caring.

"You don't care."

"I really don't." I continued to smile, as I hadn't given that bitch any thought in over eight years.

"Oh, shit." Dad chuckled. "Four out of five." He finally got it, glancing over his shoulder at Aro, but his hands were full. He had my sons under each arm. "We should take these guys home." He held their jaws in his palms. "It's getting late."

I nodded, looking over to where Beth and Izzy were playing with their dolls.

"She's fine." Dame nudged me.

At the same time, Little Peto came running toward our group. He didn't stop. He just threw his fist out to punch Dame in the junk. My brother bent over, holding his crotch. "He got me...What the fuck?" He rasped.

We were all laughing our asses off.

Big Peto, Gio, didn't think it was funny. "You don't hit." He bent low to talk to his son. "Especially not below the belt." His eyes widened, but he was teaching his son a valuable lesson. It's important because, if that's a new habit, I didn't want to be next...I bet Gio was thinking the same.

My sons were laughing so hard, they were almost drooling on themselves. Dad, too.

Little Peto frowned. "But Nonno told me to."

Gio slumped his shoulders.

We all looked to Aro, who was holding Lala, and he waved to us.

Dame shook it off, but he'd be getting Aro back in the near future. He's an evil genius when it comes to pranks, punking people. In fact, I couldn't wait. It was bound to be hilarious—whatever he decides to do.

"I'm sorry, Unka Maymen," Little Peto said. "No tell my momma."

"Don't sweat it, squirt." He winked, holding his cheek. "Gimme a hug." Dame bent low to give him a squeeze.

I sighed, turning back to my father and the boys. "You guys be good."

"Send my wife out," Dad said, pointing to the hall.

After another lengthy goodbye, reassuring each of my children that everything was fine—and I think that was more for me, my benefit—I raced back to Maggie's room.

Mom had the baby in her arms, which was no surprise, while Kylie and Jordan hovered.

My wife was still in bed, looking tired but beautiful.

"Hey." As carefully as I could, I scooted into the bed with her.

"I'm starting to feel things now, like, my toes...and pain." Yet, she was fucking beaming.

Knowing she needed her rest, I looked to the other women in the room. "Ma, Dad wants to get going."

"He can wait." She held Mikey close.

"It's my turn!" Kylie scolded through a whisper.

"Fine." Our mother wasn't happy while she handed him over. Her heart looked as though it was breaking when she walked over to us.

"We're taking him home...keeping him. He ours, Ma, which means he's yours, too." I smiled.

"My sweet boy." She kissed my forehead before diving for Maggie's. "I'll call your parents again, or knock on their door when we get home."

"Bella…" Maggie used the controls on the bed to sit herself up a bit, slightly wincing. "Instead of church tomorrow, just bring the kids here. We'll chill out or something." She even sounded tired.

"Don't worry about that now, baby." I touched her chin, softly kissing her lips. "They'll be fine doin' whatever. You need your rest."

"Ugh." Mom held her chest. "You guys kill me…I love youse." She wiped her eyes and then left the room.

"What'd I say?" I asked, wondering what Mom's tears were about.

Kylie giggled, coming closer with Mikey. "I bet Na-Na breaks that no fucking while the babies are around rule…She's emotional, happy, she sees you guys still so in love…" Her face fell, tears flooding _her_ eyes now. "I get it." Her words came out warbled; she'd started to cry. "It's precious."

I laughed at her. "Are you pregnant?" It's par for the course. When one female has a baby, another is due to have one, too.

Kylie's eyes widened. "Fuck, no! You crazy?" She winced, rocking the baby a bit more when he stirred. "After what I just went through with Lala...Are you insane?" she whispered. "It'll be a while before we have another. Probably when Lala starts school. I don't know." She rambled away.

"It's just a very happy time." Jordan massaged Kylie's shoulders to soothe her and shut her up. "That's all. Having a new baby touches everyone."

"Thank you," I told her. "Thanks for lookin' out, taking the initiative…"

"Don't thank me for that shit." Jordan chuckled. "I was just doing my job. When Maggie's up and chasing all the kids again, you guys can take the girls for a weekend. Damion and I need a vacation. We can use an actual get-away."

"Definitely," I promised.

Jordan gave Maggie and me smooches on our cheeks and then left the room.

Kylie was the last one standing. "Oh, did you wanna hold him?" she asked me.

I shrugged. "It'd be nice…He's my son and all."

"Ass." She leaned forward to place Mikey in my arms. "I'll be back sometime soon." She waved, blowing us a kiss and backing out of the room.

When it was finally just Maggie and me, I leaned back, placing Mikey between us.

"He's beautiful," she whispered.

I nodded. "He gets that from you…"

"Stop." Her tears were instant, and I didn't know I'd said something bad.

"Hey…" I placed my lips in her hair.

"Happy tears," she clarified between quiet sobs.

"All right." I could live with that, knowing she'll be an emotional yo-yo in the immediate future. "I love you."

"I love you…my Santino." Her eyes were glassy, but I could see the love shining brightly.

It choked me up again, and I nodded. "I know that…Thank you…for all that you've given me." My life would be nothing without her in it. I'd _have_ nothing, if it weren't for her and our children.

"And all that you've given me…we…I mean, our love made them," she cried, whimpering and squeaking, "our babies."

I jutted my lower lip out, as I leaned even closer, Mikey still sleeping between us.

"Cherish this." Her words sounded so final. "We won't be having another one…for a long, long while, and by that time...maybe none at all, depending on how old we feel." She shrugged. "Four _is_ enough."

I actually smiled.

_Because she was full of shit._

Maybe two or three years will roll by…and then she'll get that baby itch again.

It's Maggie, not necessarily me.

Regardless, I know we'll be back in the saddle soon enough, on our way to the rodeo...again.

* * *

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